


A work of art

by Akemichan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Au where Shiro is Lorenzo de' Medici, Blood, Keith is Michelangelo, Lotor is Cesare Borgia, M/M, Minor Violence, Painter!Keith, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Pidge is Brunelleschi, and I'm a terrible history student, for real guys do not use this as a way to learn Italy's history, go to wikipedia instead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 00:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17591120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akemichan/pseuds/Akemichan
Summary: Quant'è bella giovinezza,che si fugge tuttavia!chi vuol esser lieto, sia:di doman non c'è certezza.“So,” Shiro said. “In her letter, Duchess Allura said you have a request. What is it?” And he glanced at Lance, blocking the remarks he was about to say.Keith nodded. “I would like you to pose for me for a painting.”Shiro blinked. “I hired you specifically for the cathedral, but it will require time and I don’t mind having you as an official painter for my portrait if-”“No.” Keith interrupted him. “I mean as a personal painting. I pay for the canvas and the paint myself, so the painting will belong to me.”[...]“Why do you want to paint me?”Keith stated, his voice firm: “Because you are a work of art.”Shiro snorted. “A broken one.”“No. You’re perfect the way you are. Just… let me make you immortal.”





	A work of art

When the city walls of Bologna appeared on the horizon, Shiro sighed in relief. The journey from Florence had been everything but comfortable and his body ached for having ridden for so long. He twisted the reins around his left wrist and pulled them behind. His black horse stopped rearing. Shiro jumped off and covered the remaining road until Bologna’s main gate by foot, the reins still firm in his hand as the horse followed behind him.

Outside the gate, there was a small crowd, mostly merchants coming to trade at the local market. They were waiting for the guards to verify their identity and their load before entering the city. They looked at Shiro: the scar on his nose and his paralyzed right arm were recognizable enough to identify him, but none of them made an attempt to speak with him, even if they could have known who he was.

Shiro waited for his turn, taking his time to walk a little for relaxing his aching muscles. Then one of the guards called for him: he was busy enough that he didn’t reserve Shiro a close look.

“State name and reason of your presence.”

“I’m Takashi Shirogane from Florence.”

The guard blinked. Twice. “S-Sir,” he stammered. “We weren’t aware of your arrival.”

“I know. I wasn’t invited. Can you please inform Duchess Allura? I would like a meeting with her.”

“Of course, Sir!”

The guard gestured at another to take his place at the gate, so he could rush to the palace. Shiro asked for an area to let his horse drink as he waited. He kept an eye on the street, so he noticed as soon the guard returning, followed by a woman Shiro recognized as one of Allura’s lady-in-waiting, Romelle. They had met before.

“As usual, you’re not an ordinary man, coming here all alone and without any announcement,” she greeted him.

“I love to surprise people.”

“That’s for sure,” Romelle nodded. “Unfortunately, Duchess Allura can’t see you now, she has business with the city’s council. We’ll inform her about your arrival and she’ll receive you as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded. “Now, if you will follow me, I have arranged a room for your stay.”

At another nod of her head, the guard took Shiro’s horse and the two packs hanging at the saddle. He moved forwards the main road. Romelle and Shiro followed him from behind, but none of them exchanged words: it wasn’t her place to ask questions about Shiro’s visit.

Shiro took his time to admire the city: Bologna was definitely livelier than he remembered. The buildings were renewed and Shiro recognized the hand of some famous architects. Even if it couldn’t compete with Florence, Shiro thought with pride, under Allura’s guidance Bologna was definitely one of the most beautiful cities in the area.

Allura’s palace was also astonishing. Romelle noticed his awe and smiled. After she had led him to his quarters, where the guard had left his bags, she suggested, “as you wait for Duchess Allura, you’re free to take a look at the garden. I’m pretty sure it is something not even Florence has.”

That was a challenge that Shiro couldn’t leave unanswered. “That we’ll see.”

Romelle left with an amused smile. Now Shiro was really curious to take a look at the garden since he knew Allura’s passion for flowers and exotic plants.

He still took his time to rest after the journey. He asked the servant assigned to him to prepare a bath, so he could wash out all the dust he had collected on the way to Florence. He changed his travel clothes with a black and white robe made with silk, which was more fit for a diplomatic meeting, and he let the servant clean his boots.

Only then, he headed for the garden. He admitted to himself that Romelle hadn’t exaggerated her claim. Allura had taken for herself a large portion of the city land behind her palace, surrounded it by a wall and recreated a small park as the ones only the campaign villas had. Shiro smiled, remembering Allura had lived in a similar place as a child, on the hills of the Papal States.

Shiro had been there a couple of time when his father had tried to arrange a marriage between the two of them. Then he died, and immediately after that Allura’s father had died too. Both of them were more occupied to take care of their own cities than following their parents’ agreement. Still, the garden remembered him of Allura’s manor back then and Shiro was sure she missed it.

A rumor jerked Shiro out of his memories. He turned his head to see a black puppy run through the bushes. He frowned: for what he remembered, Allura didn’t like dogs that much, she preferred smaller animals. The barks of the puppy were loud now, so Shiro followed the sound, walking inside the garden.

There was a big tree, a type that Shiro didn’t recognize, and below it sat a young man with black long hair. Shiro could only see his profile, with the scar on the right cheek. He was reading a book, placed on his bent legs, the index finger pressed on the page, underlining a sentence. The puppy hopped around him and it barked to draw his attention, but the man was too focused on reading to notice. Until the puppy jumped straight on the man’s lap, placing itself between him and the book. The man shook his head, but smiled and gave up. He abandoned the book on the ground and rubbed the puppy’s head and neck.

Once the puppy was satisfied, it jumped off and escaped somewhere else in the garden. The man watched as it disappeared behind the trees, then turned to collect his book. Only at that moment, he noticed Shiro standing a few meters from him. His blue-violet eyes widened a little and he pressed his lips together.

Before Shiro had any chance to introduce himself, he heard a voice called for him from behind. “Here you are, my boy!” Coran trapped him into a deadly hug. “It’s so nice to see you here, Shiro. Will you stop at least a couple of days, right? Please tell me you hadn’t come only for business.”

“Unfortunately, I am,” Shiro answered with an apologetic smile.

“Well, that could be rearranged,” Coran stated, and that was definitive. “Let’s go, Lady Allura will see you in her den.”

“Isn’t she Duchess Allura now?” Shiro teased.

“Never for me.” And there was pride in Coran’s word, as he was basically Allura’s stepfather.

Shiro nodded. He gave a last look at the garden: the man had disappeared. Shiro followed Coran back in the palace: Allura’s den was on the last floor, in the left wing, so she could see the garden from the window. She wasn’t there when Shiro and Coran arrived, so Shiro took a close look at the decorations.

“You made some renovations,” he said.

“Allura was reluctant, at first, to take over his father’s legacy, but in the end, she felt it was important to have her own way,” Coran commented as he poured wine in the glasses.

A painting, in particular, drew Shiro’s attention. It was big enough to take up one of the walls, the one on the right, behind Allura’s desk. At first, it looked like a portrait of Allura, as she sat down on a wooden chair in a place that could be the same garden Shiro had visited just before. As a second look, it revealed some interesting particulars: Allura lent forward with her right hand, and a small blue bird was about to land on it. With the other hand, she kept three pomegranates on her lap. Her dress was green and decorated with flowers: the large skirt blended with the ground, as she and mother nature were the same.

“She’s supposed to be Persephone?”

“Very good.” Coran sounded pleased. “Painter’s idea. He felt Allura brought the spring to Bologna, but she can also be dangerous as the queen of the underworld.”

It wasn’t so far-fetched: Allura was kind and compassionate, but she could also be cold-hearted. They all had to, that was how they had survived as heads of their cities.

“Who’s the painter?”

“One of Allura’s protégées. He isn’t famous. Yet.”

“Do you think he could work for me?” Shiro asked. “I’m still looking for a painter for my cathedral’s dome.”

“Come on, Shiro. The best artists of Italy are already part of your entourage and now you want mine too?”

Shiro was startled, but not for the surprise of hearing Allura’s voice as she entered the room from a small door next to the painting. He was surprised because he got the impression that the Allura from the painting moved, turning her head a little towards him and smirking.

He recovered fast. “I’ll always be looking out for talented people.” He smiled as she came close. “It’s nice to see you.”

Allura hugged him. “It was imprudent to come here all alone without even an armed guard. I’ll make sure you’ll be escorted back to Florence. But for now, welcome in my city and of course I hope you’ll stay a little.” There was affection in her voice and Shiro reciprocated the hug with his left hand.

“I already told him we won’t let him escape soon,” Coran intervened.

He had placed three glasses of wine on the small table, along with some sweet and fruits. The three of them sat down on the armchairs around it.

“I know why you’re here,” Allura said after she rubbed her blue dress. “The rumors about my marriage with Lord Lotor. Both Milan and Venice are worried and this could compromise your treaty.”

Shiro nodded. “I’m not in the position to criticize your decision about your marriage, as I know very well you don’t take them lightly. But I need to reassure my allies that it won’t change anything in terms of balancing Pope Zarkon’s influence.”

“I haven’t decided about it yet.” Allura took a sip of wine. “Lotor is a charming man, one that shares my same vision about government. Also, he owns some properties that will be useful for me. I won’t mind marrying him. But he has his own plans, which I’m not sure I can approve. Besides, his mother is a problem too.”

“Lady Honerva’s reputation is… problematic, at least,” Coran intervened. “She used to be one of Zarkon’s main allies, but apparently there was a disagreement between them and now she’s working alone at her own project.”

“That’s better for us,” Shiro said. He was informed about it because he always took a close look at Honerva’s movements. “Zarkon’s can’t plot something against us if he has his own problems.”

“That’s true, but Lady Honerva is almost as dangerous as him,” Allura commented, a frown on her face.

“Lord Lotor is working with her? Or for her?”

“For what I know, no. Lotor hates both his parents. Being the illegitimate son of the Pope was bad enough, and his mother didn’t help. Even if I end up marrying him, there won’t be any alliance between Bologna and the Papal States.” Allura smirked. “Your trade routes between Florence and your allied cities are safe.”

“That’s all I need to know.”

Allura sighed. “To be quite honest, I’m a little bit disappointed you thought, even for a minute, that I could ally my city with Pope Zarkon. He killed my father, you should know.”

“I know,” Shiro confirmed. The scar on his nose twitched. “But years of government taught me to do compromises, as much as we despise them.”

“Not all compromises can be accepted and an alliance with the pope is one of them.” Allura’s eyes glowed for a moment, but her rage wasn’t addressed at Shiro.

“That’s… comforting,” he said, sincere. “That’s why I came here by myself. I need to verify in person we’re still on the same path.”

She placed a hand on his knee in a gentle way. “You will always be able to count on me.” She stood up. “Now that we cleared things up, you can chill a little and enjoy your time in Bologna.”

“Oh, yes!” Coran clapped his hands. “Dinner! You’ll love it. And don’t think you can escape, I already arranged your day tomorrow.”

Shiro laughed. “Fine, I owe you this, at least. I’m in your care.”

“Good choice.” Coran grabbed him by his left hand and pulled him forward.

As they left the room, Shiro threw a last look at the painting. “About that painter…”

Allura chuckled. “You won’t let it go on the matter, will you?”

“I recognize talent when I see it. It will be an honor having him as the major painter of my cathedral.”

“Rumors say it’ll be amazing. The biggest ever built, with a dome that shouldn’t be held up, yet it will.”

“Rumors are correct. It’ll be the most incredible cathedral around, making even the churches in Rome disappear in comparison,” Shiro confirmed, pride in his word. “A very strong reason for a young and talented painter to be part of this project.”

“He isn’t looking for fame. You won’t buy him this way.”

“Can I at least make a try?”

“I will inform him about your offer,” she assured him in the end. “But I won’t force him to accept. He will decide by himself.”

***

Shiro didn’t meet the painter in the three days he spent in Bologna. He left without any confirmation about his decision, but he couldn’t press more about it. His return in Florence kept him busy enough to not think too much about it.

He got a stern lecture from his advisers: Sanda was especially hard on him for having departed for Bologna without warning them, and all alone! Then he had to attend the reunions of the council, and he caught up with all the decisions they had made in his absence. He sent ambassadors to Milan and Venice to inform them about his meeting with Duchess Allura. And lastly, he dealt with his family bank’s affairs.

Only a week after his return Shiro was able to take some time for himself. And, as usual, he headed for the wing of his palace he called “the castle of lions”. It was the quarter where the artists Shiro kept in major consideration lived and also where they had their personal studios to work in. At the moment, seven people stayed there and three of them were the ones responsible for the project of the cathedral.

Shiro was a few meters away from the studio when he heard his two architects arguing. He smiled: it happened often, but it was also one of the reasons their project was the best.

“Marble!”

“Red brick!”

Shiro entered: Lance sat down on the ground, a scalpel in his hand and a marble table in front of him. Hunk stood in front of him, while Pidge sat down at the table, papers with the dome’s project in front of her.

“I say marble,” Lance nodded.

“Of course you agree with Hunk!” Pidge protested. “But the dome is mine. I’m the only one that pulled it off, so I get to decide how to cover it.”

“But it’s absurd having the facades all decorated with white marble and then the dome only with red brick. It cheaps out your own project,” Hunk retorted.

“Or it’ll make it stand even more.”

“Yeah, stands as saying Florence ends the money for marble and has to rearrange with cheaper materials.”

“Uhm, guys…” Lance coughed and then nodded and the door, where Shiro still stood. Both Hunk and Pidge looked at him and smiled: they weren’t ashamed of their arguing, ever.

“Shiro! I’m so glad you didn’t get killed by robbers on your way to Bologna!” Hunk greeted him.

“Whoa, man, can you be a little less gloomy?” Lance commented.

“Well, it happens. I was worried.”

Shiro chuckled. “Thanks, I’m glad too.” He got neared the table. “So… dome’s roof already?”

“We gotta be prepared,” Pidge stated. “So, what do you prefer? Marble or brick?”

“What about the resistance? Maybe it won’t stand the weight of the marble.”

Hunk and Pidge looked at each other, making clear they only thought from an esthetic point of view. “I’ll make some calculations,” Pidge decided. She threw her head back in her papers and Hunk followed her.

“You’re idiots,” Lance commented, before turning his attention to his marble slab.

Shiro smiled with affection. He sat at the same table and opened the book by Ovidius in front of him. There was no better place for him to stay but in the studio, with the whispering of Pidge and Hunk about their project and the sound of Lance’s scalpel as he worked. Shiro wasn’t an artist, he only wrote short poems, but he surely appreciated art in every form.

Their peace was interrupted by the arrival of a guest.

“A person for you, Sir, at the door,” announced Veronica. “He said you had called for him and he had a letter from Duchess Allura.”

The painter! Shiro grabbed the letter from Veronica’s hand. “Please, let him in.”

Pidge, Hunk, and Lance looked at him with curiosity.

“I may have found a painter for the cathedral,” Shiro explained, as he used his index and his middle finger to break Allura’s seal and opened the letter.

Pidge frowned. “Aren’t James and the others the painters?”

“For the aisles, and for the chapels, but none of them is good enough for the dome itself. Allura’s painter is the right person.”

“That was supposed to be me!” Lance exclaimed. There was betrayal on his eyes.

“Actually, no,” Shiro replied, calm but serious. “You said by yourself that you’ll take the job if I don’t find anyone else. I never accepted that. You’re a great sculptor and you have a lot to take care of. Let the fresco of the dome to someone else.”

Lance pouted but didn’t add anything. He instead focused his attention to the door, waiting for Allura’s painter to arrive. Shiro opened the letter and read it.

_Dear Shiro,_

_Keith said to me he’s interested in working at your cathedral, so I sent him to you._

_But he also told me he has a request for you before taking the job. Knowing him, it won’t be an unreasonable demand, but accepting it’s up to you._

_If you don’t, Keith has the money with him to return to Bologna. Otherwise, he’ll be in your care._

_Best regards_

Shiro frowned: he knew enough artist to understand every each of them had quirks to deal with. But Allura had been mysterious enough about the painter’s request that made Shiro a little unease.

When he lifted his head from the letter, Keith was already standing at the door. His long hairs were arranged in a low ponytail, making the scar on his cheek standing even more. He wore red velvet clothes, surely a way of Allura to make him stand up. His blue-violet eyes scanned the room until they stopped on Shiro. His blank expression didn’t change.

“My lord.” He bowed a little.

“Welcome to Florence,” Shiro greeted him. “May I introduce to you the people responsible for the cathedral? There are Pidge and Hunk, the architects.”

Keith acknowledged him with a small nod. “I’m Keith,” he presented himself.

“And this is Lance, the sculptor,” Shiro added.

“I’m also a painter,” Lance pointed out.

“Are you the author of the bust at the entrance?” Keith asked.

“Yep! Pretty good, eh?”

“You forgot the scar,” Keith commented, as he tapped his finger on his nose.

“I didn’t forget it; I took it off on purpose. That’s what Shiro deserves.”

Keith didn’t reply. He took two steps ahead and tilted his head at one of the papers hanging at the wall: it was a picture of the dome once finished.

“So you’re the ones to design it,” Keith said. “I remembered the controversy years ago. People complained the apse was too big and no one would be able to build a dome upon it. But you did. That’s great.”

“Well, of course.” Pidge crossed her arms, proud. “But that wouldn’t have been possible without Shiro. He was the only one believing a woman could pull it off.”

Keith turned his head only a little, to look a Shiro, but he didn’t comment further. Instead, he focused his attention on another paper. “What is it?”

Lance stood up. “Oh, just a quick sketch I made. I’m throwing ideas around how to decorate the dome, you know.”

“It’s a woman selling fishes?”

“No! It’s the Virgin Mary for the Annunciation!”

“This thing looks like a fish,” Keith pointed out.

“It’s a lily!”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “Still looking like a fish.”

Hunk chuckled. “To be honest, he’s right.”

“Well, it was just a sketch, nothing serious,” Lance commented, his arm folded. “What about you? Haven’t ever heard of you.”

“I worked for Duchess Allura mostly,” Keith said. His hand found the charcoal. “And before that only private projects in Rome.”

“So you’re a nobody,” Lance assumed.

Keith didn’t answer. He was drawing on the paper. He didn’t cancel Lance’s sketches, but it used it to create something else. His movements were precise, as he was drawing only by instinct. Once he finished, the drawing wasn’t an Annunciation anymore, but Maddalena washing Jesus’ feet. The theme was recognizable and he pulled it off from a sketch about something else entirely.

“But I’m better than anyone else,” Keith said in the end.

“Well, we’ll see,” Lance replied, but his remarks sounded weak. The room had fallen into silence, as Hunk and Pidge looked at each other, unsure how to react.

“So,” Shiro said. “In her letter, Duchess Allura said you have a request. What is it?” And he glanced at Lance, blocking the remarks he was about to say.

Keith nodded. “I would like you to pose for me for a painting.”

Shiro blinked. “I hired you specifically for the cathedral, but it will require time and I don’t mind having you as an official painter for my portrait if-”

“No.” Keith interrupted him. “I mean as a personal painting. I pay for the canvas and the paint myself, so the painting will belong to me.”

“I see.” In truth, Shiro didn’t understand it. The idea of having no control at all to having a painting with his face on it wasn’t so much appealing. But he felt it wasn’t a strange way to embarrass him. And he really wanted Keith for the dome.

“Deal.”

***

The artists under Shiro’s care had their own dining room. It was mostly a reason for Shiro to eat with them and avoid, when he could, conversations about politics with his advisors. He missed the dinner the day of Keith’s arrival, but he was there for breakfast. Since Keith was new in the palace, he wanted to be sure of his well-being.

Keith wasn’t at the table, nor it was Lance. Shiro frowned, remembering their disagreement the day before. He sat down between Pidge and Hunk.

She waited for him to serve himself before speaking: “By our calculations, bricks would be better for the dome. I don’t know the exact amount required yet, but it’s better starting the production now.”

Shiro nodded. “Sure. I’ll make the order today.” He was satisfied: more production meant more works for the people of Florence. “Where are Lance and Keith?” he asked then.

Hunk shrugged. “I knocked at Lance’s door but he didn’t answer.”

“Keith’s outside taking care of his dog,” Ina informed Shiro.

“Have you met him?”

The four painters nodded. “At dinner yesterday,” Ryan pointed out.

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce him myself.” Shiro hadn’t been able to attend the dinner for business reason, and before that, he thought that finding a room for Keith to rest after the long journey from Bologna was more important.

“No problem, James knew him,” Nadia commented.

That sparkled Pidge and Hunk’s attention. “Oh?”

“It’s not like we’re friends or anything,” James said. “We were apprentices at the same workshop in Rome.” Since the eyes of everyone were still on him, he sighed and added, “he kinda… punched me once.”

Nadia laughed. Ryan shook his head. “I’m pretty sure you deserved that,” he commented.

“I’ll take half of the guilt, but not more,” James replied, hoping to end the conversation, but of course most of the others were too much interested in it. He looked at Shiro with hope, but even him was waiting for more information.

“Spit it out,” Pidge said.

“Fine.” James stretched. “The first time Keith came in our workshop he was hurt. Wounds on the face and on the shoulder.”

“He still has the scars,” Ina said.

“Well, we never found out how he got those, but of course that spread rumors around. Especially because Keith’s an orphan but his presence in the workshop had been recommended by someone from the Galra family.” James’ audience gasped and he smiled. “Later on, everyone was convinced Keith was the illegitimate son of Lady Krolia, Cardinal Ranveig’s cousin.”

“And it’s true?”

“We never found out, but it’s likely,” James answered. “Because Keith punched me when I pointed that out to him.”

“That’s so bad of you,” Ryan said.

“In my defense, I did it because Keith was unnerving.” Despite that, James looked regretful. “He wasn’t able to work in a team with any one of us and most of the time his stunts caused everyone else to trouble with the master.”

“I guess that hasn’t changed,” Nadia commented. Her eyes looked above her, as she was remembering something.

“But he’s good?” Shiro asked at last.

James nodded. “He’s good. Actually, he’s better than everyone I’ve met.” And that was something.

“Uhm, guys…” Hunk murmured. “Aren’t we going to talk about the fact Keith could have a connection with the Galra family?” He looked around. “The Pope is a Galra and Florence isn’t in a good relationship with him. I mean…” He gestured with both his hands. They all knew what he was referring about.

“I don’t know about his parents,” Shiro said. “But he stayed with Duchess Allura and I’m sure she could guarantee for us he doesn’t work for the Galra.”

The door opened and Keith entered the room. A quick look was enough for him to understand they were talking about him. He frowned as he sat down in silence.

Shiro smiled apologetically. “I was told you met already the other painters.”

Keith nodded. “Their studio is nice, but there’s no space for me.”

“Hey, when did you go in our studio?” Nadia asked.

“Yesterday. Before dinner?”

“You could have asked us to show you around.” She pouted.

Shiro glanced at her. “I agree that studio isn’t large enough for five people. No problem though, since I prefer for you to work together with Pidge and Hunk. Their studio has space for a person more.”

“I don’t work well with other people.” Keith’s gaze passed on Pidge and Hunk, who kept a blank stare.

“You should learn,” Shiro told him. “You can’t take care of the fresco for the dome alone, even if the project is yours. You’ll need assistants. From professionals, I expect fully collaboration.”

Keith was about to speak, but then he reflected and nodded. “Sure.”

“And since my morning is free, I will come to you at the building site of the cathedral.”

That sparkled the enthusiasm in the group. “Yes, let’s go and see the workers hadn’t screwed up my dome,” Pidge commented.

After that, the conversation moved to subjects tied up to the work and Florence in general. Keith listened, his eyes attentive, but he didn’t intervene. Lance didn’t show up for breakfast; Veronica informed Shiro he was working at something and preferred not to be interrupted, so they left the palace without him.

They proceeded slowly because Shiro stopped a lot to greet the people of Florence. Despite being the one in charge of the government, it was important for everyone to remember he was working for their well-being and he wasn’t a king of any sort. He saw Keith exchanging brief conversation with James and Hunk and Shiro took it as a good sign.

As Keith saw Shiro looking, he moved next to him. “I know you’re a busy man,” he said. “It’s better if we schedule the days you can pose for me.”

“Are you afraid I won’t keep my part of the deal?”

“Of course not!” Keith looked offended by the insinuation. “I’m just… impatient to work on it,” he admitted.

“I will find a day each week for you,” Shiro assured him. “But now I would like you to focus on the cathedral. This is a big project that can assure you a place on the art history. I want you to take it.”

Keith didn’t look convinced, but it soon changed once his eyes lay the first time on the cathedral. Even if at the moment it missed the roof, the dome and the decoration on the façades, it was impressive. Shiro’s heart missed a beat each time he saw it and imagined how wonderful it would be once finished. Keith was amazed too: his blue-violet eyes were wide, his lips half-opened.

Pidge and Hunk kidnapped him soon after, while the other painters moved to check the status of the chapels they were in charge of. They were eager to start painting too. Shiro spoke briefly with the master of the building site about trivial things as the workers’ salary and the cost of the material. Once he was assured everything was proceeding smoothly, he moved inside the cathedral.

He walked the nave until he reached the apse. Pidge and Hunk were talking, explaining the structure of the dome and how they decided to proceed. Keith wasn’t listening for real. He stopped at the center of the apse, his head lifted. The sky was upon him, but it was clear his eyes were already looking at the ceiling of the dome. Shiro saw them moving from one side to another, following an imaginary fresco.

Keith smiled. The first one since his arrival in Florence. He lifted his arms, his palms turned to the sky.

“Painting this will be so hard…” He wasn’t worried. He was happy and expectant. “I can pull it off.”

Once his imaginary travel ended, Keith turned around and reached Shiro and the others. “Have you already decided the theme for the fresco?”

“Not yet,” Shiro answered. “I have a preference, but for now I’m open to any suggestion.”

“I proposed the Creation, while Hunk is more for the Ascension of Jesus,” Pidge said.

“And Lance something about the Madonna,” Hunk added. “He wasn’t much clearer about that.”

Shiro smiled. “Do you have another idea?”

Keith nodded. “The Last Judgment.”

It was the same theme Shiro had to choose.

***

It was unusual for an artist to come to Shiro’s main office since they had many another occasion to speak privately with him. Lance knew it, but he still entered with a big smile.

“Can I disturb you for a second?”

Shiro looked down at the letter. “I’m coming in your studio in a couple of minutes. Can we talk there?”

“Actually, I prefer to show it now.”

“Just give me a minute.”

Lance nodded and sat down in one of the couches, his notebook firm in his lap. Shiro cast a glance on it and guessed that was the big project Lance had worked in the last days. He had to admit, he was curious. He ended writing the letter as fast as he could.

“All yours.”

“Here.” Lance jumped and placed the notebook on the desk.

He moved his weight from one foot to another, smiling, as Shiro opened it and looked at the pages. There were twenty drawings about the story of the Virgin Mary. Even if they were sketches, they were fully detailed. Lance hadn’t the habit to be so accurate in his drafts.

“They’re beautiful,” Shiro said. “How are you planning to use them?”

“For the fresco of the dome, of course.” Lance was excited. “I knew I could make something worthy for that, I just knew.”

Shiro blinked. Even if Lance’s drawings were incredible, he still wasn’t good as a painter. If he could use them for some marble plates, they would turn out amazing, but in a fresco? Shiro doubted it. He couldn’t diminish Lance’s enthusiasm though.

“You know I entrusted Keith for the fresco.”

Lance snorted. “Well, he had yet to demonstrate he can do that. I can. I just showed you.”

“Okay,” Shiro sighed. “I will think about it.”

“Thanks.” Lance brightened.

Shiro stood out and gave back the notebook. He hoped that once Keith had shown the others what he could do, Lance himself would be honest enough to admit they had a different kind of talent and expertise areas. The cathedral would be full of Lance’s sculptures, no need to add more work on him. They walked towards the artist’s quarter and Lance didn’t stop talking about his idea for the Fresco.

He interrupted himself once they heard Pidge’s voice, clear in the hallway.

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left.”

Shiro recognized a bit for the Gospel of Matthew. She stopped as they entered: while Hunk was working at his own table, she sat down at Keith’s, the book opened in her hands. Keith had a couple of papers in front of him and he was drawing in there with the charcoal. Behind him, there was the canvas he bought for his own painting, covered by a red sheet.

“Oh, hey, Shiro,” Pidge greeted him.

“Religion lessons?” Shiro raised an eyebrow.

“No, actually…”

“I asked her,” Keith explained. “I wanted to recall how the Last Judgment is described in the Bible before putting my ideas on a drawing.”

“I thought you can read.”

“I can, but I’m not very fast. Pidge volunteered to help me.”

She raised her chest. “After all, it’s the fresco for my dome. I don’t want a sloppy work.”

Shiro didn’t have a problem with that; on the contrary, he was happy Keith started to open up more with the other artists and let them help him. Lance, of course, didn’t share his feeling. He threw his notebook on the table.

“I don’t need to recall anything,” he said. “I have everything in mind, and _my_ fresco is almost ready.”

With a curious look, Pidge grabbed the notebook and opened it. Hunk looked at it behind her shoulders and even Keith moved his head with a small frown on his face.

“Wow, they’re really good,” she exclaimed. “You drew them?”

“Of course.” Lance crossed his arms.

“Pretty impressive,” Hunk admit. Pidge passed the notebook to Keith, and Lance visibly tensed.

“Story of Virgin Mary,” Keith murmured to himself. “The details of the scene are a little bit fanciful compared to the traditional iconography, but they’re not bad.”

“Yeah, that’s because I am original. Now you can take back your insult about my sculpture.”

Keith frown increased. “I never insulted your sculpture.”

“You did! The first day you arrived!”

“Oh,” Keith remembered. “I didn’t insult the sculpture. I just didn’t approve the fact that you portrayed a Shiro that doesn’t exist in reality. Looking at these drawings, it’s your style.”

Lance was about to reply back, but Hunk intervened. “I just have the best idea ever. These are perfect for the main door of the cathedral!”

“We haven’t decided that yet,” Pidge confirmed.

It was true. “Lance, you work of bronze too, right?” Shiro asked.

“Well, I… Yes, I do, but…”

“It’s decided, then,” Pidge stated. “Be assured that the quality of the plates is the same of those drawings.”

“Of course they will!” Lance protested. He sighed, understanding they trapped him in the job. Shiro hoped it would be enough to keep him busy for the time being.

“I’m impatient to see your work, Lance. I’m pretty sure it’ll be wonderful.”

Shiro felt Keith’s eyes on him, as he returned the notebook to Lance.

“It’s Thursday,” he said.

Oh. Right. They set up their appointment for posing on Thursday. “Sure,” Shiro said.

Keith looked at the others, then at Shiro again. The request remained unspoken: Keith didn’t want to be impolite and ask them to leave their own studio. Lance glared, as to dare him to speak. Shiro’s mind searched for another place where they could be alone, but Hunk intervened first.

“Lance, you haven’t worked in bronze for a while, have you? Maybe we should take you to a little bit of training.”

“He? No! I’m fine!”

“Good idea.” Pidge grabbed Lance’s hand and dragged him out of the room, followed by Hunk. “The main door has to be perfect.”

Shiro waited for the door to close to return his eyes to Keith and smiled. Keith, in silence, freed the desk from the paper and took a notebook from one of his bags. It looked new. He moved Pidge’s chair in front of his own and tested the charcoal in his fingers.

“Please, sit down here,” he said.

Shiro obeyed. He settled down as comfortable as he could: he was in front of Keith, so he shifted a little bit on the right, hiding the paralyzed arm against his side. Keith frowned: he moved to take it and placed it again on the front, the hand on Shiro’s kneel. He touched him on the shoulder and on the leg’s too, to fix more his position, and Shiro let him do. Keith didn’t look at Shiro in the eyes once during the entire process.

Shiro was used on being touched by servants when they helped him dressing or washing, but Keith’s touches were different. Delicate, sweet, slow.

Keith sat down again, his back a little turned on the table at his left, and opened the notebook. Finally, he lifted his head to look at Shiro straight in the eyes. It lasted one second before he submerged himself in the notebook and scribbled with his charcoal.

For a while, they remained in silence. Shiro took his time to observe Keith’s hand as he moved on the notebook, and his eyes every time he lifted his head to look at him. Usually, his eyes were big and mostly blue, but as he was drawing, they became thinner and the violet stood even more. Keith rubbed the corner of his mouth with his thumb, leaving a black trance on his cheek. He wore a red shirt with a loose collar and while he drew, the scars he had on the shoulder became visible.

“Have you decided the theme of your painting?” Shiro asked.

“No.”

Shiro wouldn’t like for the conversation to end. “I saw the portrait of Allura. How you made her Persephone. Did she pose for you too?”

“No.” Keith bit his lips as the charcoal slipped on the paper. “She posed for other official portraits, but not for that one. It’s the one that made her hire me.”

“Oh?” There was an implicit question that was left unspoken, but Keith caught it.

“I accompanied my master to Bologna, once, for a job. I found out the Duchess was searching for artists for her city, so I made the painting and send it to her.”

Shiro understood why Allura had done that. That portrait was amazing. “Why?”

“I wanted to leave Rome.”

“You don’t like it?”

“No. Rome is… like a Persian carpet that it had never been brushed. It’s valuable, but you can see it’s rotten.”

For what Shiro remembered by his few visits, it was a fitting description of the city. And since Zarkon had become Pope, it didn’t look Rome got better. Shiro would like to ask a little about what James had told him before, about his bond with the Galra family, but he knew Keith wouldn’t answer.

So, he said, “Were you born in Rome?”

Keith shook his head. “In Milan.”

“Oh.” That was a surprise.

“My father lived there at that time, when he met my mother. I don’t remember much of that city; I was too little.”

“And then they moved?”

Keith’s head is lifted, but his eyes weren’t on Shiro’s face. “Only my father. My mother had left.”

There was more truth in what Keith didn’t say and in how he answered the questions than in the answer himself. Shiro was a private person himself, so he understood the concern, especially if all the stories about his mother were true. He decided to let it go for now.

“And do you like Florence?”

Keith nodded. “Yes.”

“No metaphor this time?” Shiro laughed. “I’m offended.”

Keith hid a little smile. “Florence is like you. It’s friendly, gentle, and it hides its past under the new buildings.”

Shiro blinked. For a second he stayed still, until Keith spoke again, “I didn’t mean to offend you. Florence fought a lot to become what it is today and it’s right trying to get better. But the scars are showing.”

“A person can’t be repaired as a city though.” Shiro moved a little and his paralyzed hand slipped from him kneel. He hid it against his hip and this time Keith didn’t notice. He looked he was about to add something, but in the end, he didn’t.

“Which works did you make for Allura?” Shiro changed the subject.

“Some portraits for her and for her court. But I mostly took care of the new buildings’ decorations.” Keith frowned. “I thought that was the reason you hired me.”

“It was the portrait. It looked… alive. Never seen something like that before.”

“I can make a fresco,” Keith pointed out, but he was clearly pleased by Shiro’s words.

“I didn’t doubt that.”

The conversation stopped again. Shiro shot a look at the book Pidge had left on the table. “Do you want me to read it?” he asked.

“Uh, no, thanks. I want to sketch the ideas as I read about the last judgment. But you can read if you like,” he added. He sounded sorry.

“Actually, I had preferred speaking with you. If it doesn’t interrupt your work.”

“No. No, it doesn’t.”

So they kept talking. Keith told him about his dog, which didn’t have a name, and Shiro asked some careful questions about his time in Rome and in Bologna, but he discovered nothing more than what he already knew. Keith didn’t even remember James. He remembered punching someone though. Poor James. Nothing was spoken about Keith’s mother, even if there was no indication Keith believed her dead. Which could be an answer on his own.

“My father was a soldier, and he did what soldiers do: die.”

“I’m sorry.”

Keith scoffed. “My father believed in a cause. He believed in someone. He was a hero for me.” It was rare to see such a soft expression on Keith’s face.

“He died in Milan or in Rome?” Shiro asked.

At this question, Keith didn’t answer. He focused more on his notebook, the charcoal pressed on the page. Shiro took it as a sign he didn’t want to speak about it so he didn’t press. He was about to ask if Keith had visited other cities before when the door opened and Sanda entered.

“Apologies, my lord,” she said. “An ambassador from Venice just arrived. I guess you don’t want him to wait.”

“No,” Shiro admitted. He shot an apologetic look at Keith, who just nodded. “We can continue next week.”

“Yes.” Keith nodded. He closed the notebook so Shiro couldn’t even get the chance to take a look at his drawings. “Thank you for your time.” He put the notebook away and recollected the papers and the book. Shiro left him as he started reading.

“Did you commission a portrait?” Sanda asked once they left the studio.

“It is a problem?” Shiro replied. He knew Sanda wouldn’t approve Keith using him a model for a personal painting.

“On the contrary. You haven’t made one in a long time, and that wasn’t good.”

Sure, Sanda was all about tradition and appearance. After all, it was the reason she was one of his advisors, so she could give him a perspective about other nobleman’s minds. At this point, he should ask Keith for a portrait for real.

***

Etiquette dictated a very specific course of action for the Prior of Pisa, as he welcomed Shiro and his retinue. Only once they were inside his palace, everyone let his mask fall: Shiro smiled seeing Pidge throwing herself at Matt. The two brothers hugged each other, while Sam coughed at her behavior, unable to hide his amusement. Only Keith stood a little bit far; he looked around with interest, but he did not dare to participate.

“Very well, kids,” Sam said. “I know you two haven’t seen each other in a lot of time.”

Pidge didn’t let him finish. “That’s for sure.”

“Matt has his duty, and you too, Katie.”

She pouted. Matt pinched her cheek. “We can speak more at dinner,” he said. “Unfortunately, father’s right. And among other things, there is a problem it needs to be addressed now.”

Shiro turned attentive. “What is it?”

“Lady Honerva is here.”

Everyone gasped. Shiro took a deep breath to remain calm. “How?” he asked. “I have spies on her, and she still managed to get in Pisa without anyone noticing?”

Matt was displeased. “There is a reason people believe she’s a witch.”

“Did you arrest her?” Sam intervened. “Florence’s council found her guilty as an accomplice of the conjure, and the jurisdiction includes Pisa too.”

“I wish I had, but she’s in Saint Sylvester Convent. She pleaded the church’s protection, so we can’t touch her.”

“She surely knows how to play,” Sam commented. “We can’t have her here though. Wonder what she’s planning.”

“I asked the abbess to speak with her, trying to understand her motives,” Matt explained. “She’s not here to hide, she said, only to speak with Shiro.”

“She wants to speak with me?” Shiro repeated. “About what?”

Matt shook his head. “I have no idea. I tried to speak with her myself, but she refused. She would speak only with you, and alone.”

“Absolutely not,” Sam stated. “For all we know, this is a trap. She can have… something, some magic, and she wants to kill Shiro. She tried in the past.”

“But if we don’t, she’ll remain here, and isn’t that worse?” Pidge said.

“Katie, please.”

“No, she’s right,” Shiro murmured. “I have to if we want to get rid of her. She’s too dangerous to be left around.”

“Not alone, for sure. I’ll be coming with you,” Sam proposed.

“She doesn’t want any guard around, father,” Matt précised.

“I can handle myself, even with one hand,” Shiro said. “I can handle her.”

“I wasn’t trying…” Sam’s voice trailed off.

“What about me?” Keith spoke for the first time. “I’m just a painter, so she won’t feel threatened by me. And I can fight just fine.”

The eyes of everyone were on him before Shiro nodded. He could do that alone but having Keith as a backup was reassuring. “Let’s move on, then. I want to finish this as soon as possible.”

Matt took them to the convent. The abbess was waiting for them and she had already prepared a small, private room. She left on the table a jug of wine and three glasses, but Shiro had no intention to drink. He sat down, while Keith leaned himself against the wall, next to the closed door, arm crossed on his chest.

The other door on the opposite wall opened and Honerva made his entrance. She looked older than Shiro remembered, but many years had passed since the last time they had met. She wore the blue sober clothes of a nun and her white hair was tied up in two low buns, an appearance that made her look almost inoffensive. But they usually deceive others, Shiro remembered himself. Especially with that woman.

“Lord Shirogane.”

“Lady Honerva.”

She tilted her head. “Who’s the boy?”

“My personal painter. He’s making a fresco with the story of my life, so he can’t leave my side.”

It was a poor excuse, they both knew. From Honerva’s glare at Keith, Shiro couldn’t understand if she believed it. Still, she sat down in front of him, hands hidden in her blue skirt.

“Do you think our meeting will be so important to be painted in the story?” she asked. The tone was quiet, but Shiro felt a mocking.

“Last time, you planned a conjure to kill me, so I don’t reject the possibility.”

She made a low laugh. “The conjure was pinned on me, but I had no responsibility in it. You know where the order came from.”

“Maybe you didn’t begin it, but you participated, that’s for sure.”

“No, I didn’t,” she replied. “If I did, you would have died.”

Shiro hoped the fear he felt didn’t show outside. He didn’t want to talk about the conjure, and he didn’t want to talk to her, in general. Honerva was a scary woman and she did too much against Shiro, in the heart of his own city, with the people that lived there. Shiro feared she could do it again.

“What do you want?”

A little smile appeared on her lips. “I’m here to beg for a favor.”

“A favor?”

“I would like you to marry Duchess Allura.” That wasn’t something he was expecting. He remained quiet, as his mind calculated the implication of the request. Honerva filled the gap for him, “at the moment, my son Lotor is her best candidate, for a couple of reason. I don’t think she’s the right person for him and I want to avoid it.”

“Then talk to your son,” Shiro replied. “I’m not in a position I can ask Allura anything, and I don’t want to.”

Honerva nodded. “I understand. My request has some benefits for you too.”

He doubted it. “I can’t wait to hear them.”

“My son and his father never get along well,” Honerva explained. “It’s partially my fault, but Lotor grew up with the myth of the Roman Empire and his dream is to reunite all the Italian mainland under only one state. With him as its emperor, of course.”

“A lot of people had that dream in the past.”

“But they’re not my son,” Honerva replied. She had some pride in her words. “He tried with a direct approach with Siena, that resulted in the city destroyed and him exiled from Rome for a while. Now he has become wiser, and he’s plotting under the surface.”

“I guess he had a good teacher.”

She didn’t take the provocation. “If he married Duchess Allura, he will continue his plan. Unlike you, he won’t be pleased with only a commercial agreement. Whatever you like it or not, there will be war.”

“Duchess Allura won’t allow it.”

“Then maybe she should be informed about my son’s dream. I’m pretty sure he didn’t speak with her about it.”

“And what will happen if Lotor doesn’t marry Allura?” Shiro hated the question. He hated Honerva was leading the conversation and he was unable to counter her arguments with other information because he didn’t have any.

“Right now, all the major cities in Northern Italy don’t have any suitable candidate for him, so his plan will slow down. I’m making an agreement with the governor of the Kingdom of Two Sicilies. Even if he depends on the king of Spain, in Southern Italy, he is almost a king himself. And his third daughter has yet to be married.”

“Isn’t that a better solution for Lotor’s plan?”

“No. It may seem like that, at first, but once he marries her, the governor will refrain him to carry out useless feat. After all, Spain is one of Pope’s Zarkon contributors. They won’t do something to damage the Papal States, unlike France. And unlike you.”

Shiro didn’t reply at the last statement. He was never attached the Pope, he had only asked to mind his business. Something Zarkon hadn’t. “And what do you gain from it?”

“A son married well, rich, in a flourishing land, very far away from conspiracies and wars. Isn’t what all mothers desire?”

“You’re not an ordinary mother.”

Honerva stood up. “I said all I have. The decision is yours, Lord Shirogane. Just be sure not to regret it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He stood up too, hand placed on the table. “I want you out from Pisa today. Pack your bags.”

She seemed unfazed by his outburst. “As you wish.” And with that, she disappeared by the same door she had entered in.

Shiro left the room, Keith followed behind him. Sam, Matt, and Pidge were waiting for him outside, with other guards of his escort. He didn’t let them the time to ask.

“Be assured she’s leaving,” he ordered. “Follow her and find out how she arrived. It won’t happen again.”

“Yes,” Sam nodded. “I’ll leave a guard with you…”

“No. I’ll return to the palace by myself. Just take care of Honerva.”

Pidge looked between Shiro and Sam, unsure. She couldn’t help with Honerva’s surveillance so she could go with Shiro, but she was not a fighter.

“I’ll go with him,” Keith stated, and she nodded.

“See you two at the palace, then.”

He didn’t wait for Shiro to give him permission, and Shiro didn’t give one. He let Keith follow him. They left the convent and walked towards the center of Pisa, alongside the river. The sun was setting down and the water brightened more. Only when they reached the small church at the beginning of the main road, Shiro stopped. He looked at the door, unsure if to enter or not.

He didn’t, because Keith got near and brushed his left arm.

“I hate this,” Shiro said. “The way she got in my head. I fear that whatever I choose to do, I’ll be following her plan.”

“You want to marry Allura?”

“No,” Shiro answered. “We could have done it years ago, but we decided not to. Honerva should know.”

“Maybe she thinks that you could change your mind.”

“Or maybe she’s playing with me. Maybe she wants me to tell Allura about Lotor, and ruin their marriage. Or maybe she hopes I won’t tell her, for some reasons.”

“Why did she take the risk then?”

“Maybe I would have found out about Lotor’s plan by myself, and in that case, I would have told Allura, probably. She doesn’t want war, and definitely, she wouldn’t approve a husband using her city for war. Now that the information came from Honerva…”

“I met Lotor, once,” Keith said. “He doesn’t seem the type to enjoy war. Still, he likes talking about the Roman Empire too much. It doesn’t mean he actually wants to recreate a new empire.”

“If I tell Allura and it’s not true… But if I don’t tell and it is true… No, I have to tell her. Just, I hate to rely on Honerva on this.”

“What about we tell her without Honerva knowing it?”

“What do you mean?” Shiro blinked.

“I can go to Bologna,” Keith explained. “Honerva didn’t believe about me painting the story of your life, but I’m pretty sure she will know it’s true I’m a painter. We can fake Allura asking me for a job, and I can go there and speak with her. Or maybe investigate about Lotor’s whereabouts.”

Shiro looked at him. Yes, Honerva would know Keith’s a painter, but maybe she would know something more. Something she could use against them. Still, Keith looked so firm in his decision, that Shiro felt he would hurt his pride not to accept his help.

“I can send a message to Allura, a message totally unrelated with the question. Then have my messenger back with a fake request for you. Even if someone intercepts it, they won’t know the real reason for your visit. Honerva may suspect something, but she won’t know for sure.”

“I have the feeling she won’t. I’m just a painter after all.”

“You’re not _just_ a painter,” Shiro replied. “There’s nothing wrong in being one. And you’re great at it.”

Keith smiled. His gaze was affectionate. “What I’m saying is I’m not a knight.” He knelt in front of him and took his paralyzed hand. He brushed the fingers with his lips. “But let me help you with this.”

***

“Where is everyone?” Shiro asked. It felt strange having the studio so silent and empty.

“Pidge and Hunk are at the building site, while Lance was looking for new materials for his work,” Keith answered. He sat down at his own table, a book opened at his right side and papers scrambled in front of him. The canvas for his personal painting was still covered by the red sheet.

“I see.” Shiro sat in front of him. “It’s time for me to pose again, right?”

Keith nodded. He didn’t look at him. “I finished the sketches about your face and your hands. I need the rest of the body now.”

“You want me to pose naked?” Shiro didn’t mean to sound embarrassed, but he was.

Keith nodded again. “I apologize. I thought it was pretty clear.”

“It wasn’t.” Well, it actually was, Shiro realized. For only his face Keith wouldn’t have needed to ask for permission. That was all the reason behind the special request. “Did Allura pose naked too?”

“No. But she’s not you.”

Keith waited. Shiro understood from his gaze that Keith wouldn’t press. He was enchanted by working at the fresco and he wouldn’t take back the offer. They could brush aside the entire “posing naked thing” as a misunderstanding. Still, they made a deal and Shiro wouldn’t neglect it.

“Not here,” he said. “Come with me.”

He stood up. Keith rushed to take his block note and his charcoal and followed him. They left the artists’ quarter to reach the private wing of the Shirogane’s family. Shiro unlocked the door of his den and closed it again once Keith entered. He gestured at the small door that connected the den to his bedroom.

“Nobody will disturb us here,” Shiro said. “You can work here.” He showed the round table with the only chair in the right corner on the room. As Keith placed his equipment down, Shiro opened the heavy curtains at the window. “Is the light fine?”

Keith nodded absently-minded. He scanned the decoration of the room until they stopped upon a small painting hanging above the fireplace. It was a very minimal portrayal of the Marriage at Cana: Jesus sat down at the table, alone; at his left, glasses full of water, at his right, glasses full of wine. Behind him, small figures of Mary and two servants. Despite its simplicity, the art was good.

It also had another odd detail: Jesus was portrayed with Shiro’s face.

Keith’s eyes widened. “You kept the painting.”

***

_The Easter Day was a reason of celebration for Florence. Especially that year. They defeated the plague and the town prospered again. The year before people are worried the death of the head of the Shirogane family would have brought famine, but the heir had been strong enough to claim his place within the council and manage to save the family’s bank._

_Florence would flourish even more._

_Not everyone was happy about the power the Shirogane family gained, but Shiro didn’t mind. He had done what it was necessary for his city and it was worth the risk. He saddened him Adam didn’t share his vision, complaining about his behavior every day._

_“I’m not saying you did wrong,” Adam said, as they went to the Mass. “I’m just asking to be a little more caution. You had enemies.”_

_Shiro sighed. “I know I had. It can’t be helped. That won’t stop me.”_

_“Just… Take your time. You became the heir of the Shirogane family only last year. Turn down some of your proposals at the council.”_

_“We talked about this already,” Shiro snorted. “If I show a sign of weakness, Sendak will take the chance to extend the influence of the Galra. Pope Zarkon has already too much power.”_

_“He’s the Pope,” Adam pointed out. “He could excommunicate you.”_

_“Let him do it. Florence is_ my _city. No one will take it from me.”_

_“Do whatever you want.” Adam turned his head. Shiro was tired of fighting even with the people he loved. He placed his hand on Adam’s back, but Adam scoffed and moved it away. “Not here. Not in public. Do not give Sendak another reason to attack you.”_

_For this, Shiro could agree with Adam. Still, he felt they were walking away from each other. Shiro didn’t want that, but at the same time he wouldn’t give up his project for Florence only because they didn’t align with the Pope’s. He wasn’t in a good mood when his gaze met Sendak’s. He was in front of the church’s door, speaking with his group of man._

_“Good morning,” Adam greeted him, cold but nice._

_“Happy Easter,” Sendak replied. “It’s a good day to think back at our past mistakes and amend for them, don’t you think.”_

_“Of course,” Shiro smirked. “I hope you enjoy this holiday, then, because tomorrow the council will approve my law about trade and Matt from the Holt family will be Prior of Pisa. Everything you fought against.”_

_“Hope you have the time to enjoy your success,” Sendak growled behind them, as Shiro already headed for the church and Adam followed._

_Once they sat down on the first bench, Adam exploded. He tried to keep his voice low, but he lost his cold. “See? That’s exactly what I told you not to! You won, no need to provoke him too.” He sighed heavily. “It was the same with that painting.”_

_“Again with that…”_

_“Yes. Again.” Adam calmed himself. “Listen, I know Keith has talent and everything and you want to show him around, but that painting is dangerous.”_

_“It’s a joke you all took too serious,” Shiro replied. “Keith isn’t used portraiting people and instead to copy from his master, he got inspired by the people he knows.”_

_“He drew you as Our Lord and Savior!” Adam exclaimed. “It’s blasphemy. This time, the Pope has some right to be offended. If you don’t want to burn it, at least pretend to. To save appearance.”_

_“No. I won’t destroy Keith’s first painting, not even pretending to. It gave him confidence. Raising a talent like him it shouldn’t be considered a sin.”_

_“You saw yourself in him. You want him to be the man you couldn’t because of your heritage.”_

_“And this is wrong?”_

_Shiro could dream about being an artist, he could even compose sonnets or poem or painting, but in the end, he had a duty towards Florence and the people. He felt the responsibility. That wouldn’t stop him to appreciate arts and the talent of the artists. His project would live thanks to the effort of more people than just himself._

_The beginning of the Mass stopped their conversation. Shiro was grateful, as he hoped to speak with Adam in a quieter situation and make him understand his point of view. He focused on the prayers to calm himself and recollected his thought. He didn’t notice Sendak’s men as they moved behind him and Adam, not even when he shifted to the kneeler to receive the host._

_Adam kneeled next to him. Someone stepped behind them. The priest lifted the host._

_“NO!”_

_Shiro turned around in time to see the sword. He avoided it, just barely: the blade hammered into his right arm. Shiro moved it to disarm the man. He pushed himself backward: he fell back on the kneeler, that broke under his weight. Splinter pierced his back. Adam called his name, but his scream was cut off. Shiro didn’t see what was happening to him, too focused on the two men in front of him, rushing to kill him._

_People in the church screamed, covering the rumors of their steps as they run away. Looking for Iverson or Sam would be impossible in that flowing crowd._

_The sword was still stuck in his arm, just below the shoulder. The pain was unbearable and Shiro couldn’t move the arm, but he still managed to stand up for a fight. The priests and the altar boys were behind him: Shiro realized they weren’t on his side. He swirled, taking them by surprise. He punched the two nearest to him and run._

_“Catch him!” Sendak yelled, and his voice was audible even with all the scream._

_Shiro reached the sacristy and closed the door, using a chair as a lever. It wouldn’t resist for much time, just barely to give Shiro the time to recollect himself to fight long enough. Taking off the sword would be a wrong move since it prevented the blood loss. But it was the only weapon Shiro had._

_He found one of the priest’s dress and he teared it. He used the cloth as a bandage around the shoulder. He bit his lips as he pulled off the sword. He didn’t scream, even if the pain increased and the blood wet his white robe. His right arm was limp: Shiro couldn’t move his fingers at all. Using again his mouth and his left arm, he took another piece of cloth and tried to cover the wound._

_He heard rumors outside, but it looked they stopped to punch the door. For now. Maybe they hoped he would bleed himself to death. Shiro looked around for an escaping route, but the windows were too small for him to pass through, and no backdoors. Shiro held the hilt with his left arm, moving it to take confidence. He was ready in front of the closed door._

_A bang startled the door. With the second, it fell down. The two men that had attacked Shiro before were holding a golden candelabra as a battering ram. Shiro didn’t wait for them to move aside the remains of the door. He moved to the side and aimed at one of them: the blade pierced the man’s neck as he was unable to defend himself, his hand still holding the candelabra._

_The other moved aside. The candelabra felt on the ground with a bang. Shiro retracted on the room, as the other man kicked the remains of the door and entered. They faced each other for a long second before the man threw himself at Shiro. Shiro let his sword, he bent himself and grabbed the man’s wrist, the one holding the sword. He tripped him using his own speed against him and, once he was on the ground, Shiro stepped on him and, still blocking his wrist, he pressed the sword on his chest._

_Shiro felt behind. He stared at the broken door, panting hard. His all being screamed in pain: he wouldn’t endure for much longer. He still heard some shouting, the sound of metal clashing: he hoped someone was on his side. Slowly, he regained his balance and collected back his sword._

_In time to see Sendak stormed in the room. He gave a disgusted look to the dead man on the floor before shook his head. With an agile movement, he grabbed the hilt of the sword stuck in the man’s chest and pulled it out. The blood spattered his pants, but he didn’t even notice, already focused on Shiro, who had made two steps behind, sword lift in front of him._

_“It’s over. Let’s make it quick.”_

_“I don’t think so,” Shiro replied. “And even if you kill me, you’re doomed too. Everyone will know it was you.”_

_“Everyone will know I killed the dictator.” Sendak step forward._

_“I’m not a dictator.”_

_“Let’s see what the people will think today, after your death.”_

_Sendak slashed his sword. Shiro parried the first two thrusts, but his left arm didn’t respond well to his command. The pain was dragging him down, while Sendak was unarmed. The strength of his blows made Shiro’s body tremble until it couldn’t take anymore. The sword slipped from his left arm and Sendak cut his face right above the nose. Shiro stumbled behind, blood ripping to his cheek and mouth. He lifted his head: he was ready to die looking at Sendak in the eyes._

_Instead, Sendak stopped, the sword trembled in his hand. He lowered the gaze, and Shiro followed: the point of a blade rise from his abdomen. Sendak felt on his knees, but that didn’t stop him. He gurgled as he regained control on his sword._

_Shiro moved his attention to the figure behind him. “Keith!”_

_His right part of his face was covered in blood, with his black air stuck to his skin. Blood was also in his white clothes, making them completely red. He looked so small compared to Sendak, but there was a fire in his eyes. Rapid, Keith extracted the sword from Sendak’s back, he jumped on it and shoved the blade on Sendak’s neck. Sendak’s body quivered before finally felt to the ground._

_“Keith. My God. You’re hurt? How… How do you get in here?”_

_“I climbed a window.” Keith moved next to him. “The crown dragged me out of the church and I wasn’t able to… They locked the main door…” His fingers were on Shiro’s face, big watery eyes looked at his wound. “I’m sorry I was late…”_

_Shiro flinched at the touch, a sting of pain. Keith’s face paled, but he remained focused. He took off his shirt, so Shiro could see the still bleeding injury on his shoulder before Keith pressed the cloth on his face._

_“We need to go,” he said. He grabbed Shiro’s left hand to help him to stand up._

_“Your wounds…”_

_“No time for that,” Keith replied back. “We… You need to go out from here, reach the council’s palace. They think you died. All of them.”_

_Shiro followed Keith’s lead, his hand pressed on his face through the cloth. He removed him once they reached the nave. In front of the altar, there were bodies: Shiro recognized the priests, but also a couple of men from his personal guards. So someone managed to remain in the church and fight for him. Giving the amount of blood, Shiro wondered how many men Keith had killed in order to save him. No one but them looked alive. The church’s door was blocked by benches and candelabras and the rumors outside told Shiro someone was trying to break in._

_Keith preceded him, but Shiro stopped. He noticed it._

_“Adam!”_

_He ignored the pain as he ran to the other side of the nave, where before he had sat alongside with Adam for the Mass. Now the kneelers were both broken, Shiro’s blood in one and Adam’s body curved above the other, the blood still dripping from the three stabs he received on the back. Shiro shook him, called his name, already knowing he was too late._

_“This was my fault.”_

_“No.” Keith was behind him, a hand placed on his shoulder. “It was Galra’s.”_

_Shiro shook his head. Adam warned him. Shiro had made some powerful enemies. He expected them to attack, but he got careless. He didn’t guess they had no scruples, ready to dishonor even the Easter to get what they wanted. And they were the very same people that complained about an innocent painting!_

_Grieve was submerged by the rage. Florence was his city. And they attacked its very core. There would be no mercy._

_He barely registered the crashed that indicated the breaking of the front door._

_“He’s still alive!”_

_“Thank God!”_

_Sam and Iverson were at his side, grabbing him by his shoulder, comforting him, crying over the fact that they made in time. Shiro breathed hard._

_“Where are the others?”_

_“Haxus went to the council’s palace,” Sam informed him. “Maybe they’re thinking about a coup d’état.”_

_“We need to move. We need to stop them.”_

_Iverson looked concerned about Shiro’s wounds but nodded. Shiro gave a last look to Keith. He was two steps aside from them, one of his hand pressed on the shoulder. Keith nodded: hurt as he was, his only concern was to assure Shiro._

_“Sam. Keith needs medical assistance. Iverson can come with me to the council’s palace.” He freed himself from their grips and move forwards. “Let’s go.”_

***

“Of course I do,” Shiro said. “It’s your first painting. It’ll be worth a ton of money once you become famous.”

Keith chuckled. “I’m not sure you can found a buyer, giving all the past controversy about it.”

“Too bad. I’ll keep it.” Shiro shrugged.

“When do you understand it was me?” Keith asked. He didn’t move his eyes from the painting.

“Since I saw you at Allura’s garden. Her portrayal was just a confirmation.”

Shiro wouldn’t press: until then, he respected Keith’s wish to not talk about them and acted as they hadn’t met before. If Keith wouldn’t recognize the painting or speak about it, Shiro wouldn’t have asked. But now he needed to know.

“Where have you been all this time?” he asked. “Why did you run away?”

A long breath anticipated Keith’s words. “Things were… dangerous in Florence after Sendak’s conjure. The situation was out of control.”

“I did things I’m not proud of.” Shiro closed his eyes for an instant: Sendak had called him a dictator back then. For a while after Adam’s death, Shiro had acted as one.

“I’m not blaming you,” Keith clarified, looking at him with firm eyes. “You had every right to be angry and sad. You did what you have to.”

He turned his gaze to the painting, and continued, “but my mother feared I could be caught in the revenge too.”

“Your mother?”

“Lady Krolia.” Keith nodded. “I didn’t even know her back then. It was a secret because she had had an affair with my father when they met in Milan. It shouldn’t have happened, but here I am. She thought I was safer with him, not having to deal with the Galra family and all the intrigues they put up. She wasn’t informed my father died fighting for Florence.”

“I remember her,” Shiro said. “She was with the delegation that came from Rome, begging for forgiveness. For a burial for Sendak and his men. Pope Zarkon send it.”

“Yes,” Keith nodded again. “She came searching for me. After she found out my father’s death and the fact I was hurt in the conjure, she took me to Rome with her.”

“Do you want to?”

Keith pressed his lips together. “No. But she had a point. I was there, in the church. And even if I am an illegitimate son, it didn’t change the fact that I’m Galra. There would be suspicious about my role in the conjure and-”

“Keith.” Shiro interrupted him. “Keith. I was there. I saw you. You saved my life. And I didn’t even thank you properly for it back then.” He took Keith’s hand and rubbed its back with his thumbs. “Did you really think I would, like, sentence you or something?”

“Maybe not you in person, but the entire city had gone crazy. You weren’t yourself too.” Keith’s eyes were on Shiro’s hand, he didn’t move. “And men came looking for me.”

“Yes. I send them. Because I was worried about you. You were still wounded and you disappeared without a word… I couldn’t just shrug it off like you didn’t exist.”

Shiro’s grip on Keith’s hand tightened. After Sam wasn’t able to find Keith, Shiro had feared his death. In the chaos post conjure, it wouldn’t be impossible having someone die and then the body disappeared. A lot of people had died back then. He had cried for him, but never lost hope he could find him again. He definitely didn’t suspect Keith had been hiding from him.

“Why haven’t you contact me once these year? Time had passed since the conjure.”

“It was easier,” Keith swallowed, “not having an answer. I could indulge in the hope my mother had been wrong about you.”

“But you accepted my offer.”

“Of course I did.” Keith looked at him with affection, but with a smirk. “I thought that as a famous painter, we could meet. I decided that, if you would make the first move, I could take the risk. That is why I worked for Allura.”

“But you believed I didn’t recognize you.”

Keith shrugged. “Yes. It didn’t matter? I’m happy you did and I’m happy I was wrong all this time but… being here again was enough for me.”

Shiro hugged him with his left hand. He wasn’t usually so carefree in his behavior, but it didn’t matter at that moment. He relaxed as he felt Keith’s hand on his back.

“It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back.”

When they moved aside, Shiro frowned. “It means you would have accepted my offer even without this request about painting me?”

“I would have,” Keith admitted.

His gaze was low and Shiro understood that if he let another minute passing, Keith would retire the request. In his mind, Shiro could see Keith’s gaze as he apologized for taking advantage of the situation and said that it didn’t really matter anymore.

“Why do you want to paint me?”

Keith stated, his voice firm: “Because you are a work of art.”

Shiro snorted. “A broken one.”

“No. You’re perfect the way you are. Just… let me make you immortal.”

It wasn’t a request that could be rejected lightly. Art was immortal, he thought. Keith had the talent to become one of the best painters in the world, one that would be remembered forever. Shiro was glad he could be part of it.

He turned his back at him. “Give me a hand, would you?”

He unbuttoned the breeches and then widened the left arm. It took a couple of seconds for Keith to help him took it off. Keith’s touches were delicate, warm, made with the point of the fingers. Shiro imagined Keith had the same attention for his paintings. As he removed the shirt from the right arm, Shiro felt the touch on his scar, and then a flow of hot air. Keith barely kissed it.

Shiro turned around to face Keith once he was completely naked, his bare feet on the carpet. There was a slight blush on Keith’s cheek as his gaze passed from Shiro’s face to his legs. He sat down at the round table and opened his notebook. The hand hardly trembled as he started sketching, becoming more and more sure as the time passed. Keith bit his bottom lips and there was a frown of concentration on his face.

As usual, it was a pleasure watching him work. But naked, and standing up wasn’t so easy. His muscle stiffened and his body became cold. At a certain point, he felt the urge to stretch. Not wanting to interrupt Keith’s work, he trembled a little.

He didn’t even move from his spot, but of course, Keith noticed. His eyes were looking at him closely. He waited for Shiro’s first move.

“I’m just a little bit stiff, nothing more.”

“We can stop for today.” Keith closed his notebook and aimed for the clothes he had put on the bed.

“Wait.” Shiro stopped him.

They were face to face now, looking at each other. Keith’s gaze was intense, big blue-violet pupil as he scrutinized Shiro. Shiro felt a sting of fear. He could ruin everything. He was no good in those situations and him being homosexual just made everything worse. And in a few days, Keith would leave to Bologna as a part of their plan and would never return if Shiro made the wrong move. But he had to try. He had to know.

“I respected artist’s works, and I respect them,” he said. His left hand moved, the point of his fingers brushed against Keith’s arm. “I may have mistaken all this, but with you…”

He didn’t continue. Keith grabbed his right hand and he placed him on his face, his thumb at the corner of Keith’s mouth. Keith’s hand was so small in comparison, but it kept Shiro’s firm in place. Shiro couldn’t felt anything with that, but the sight of it compensated his lack. He took a step forwards.

Keith’s eyes didn’t move from him. Slowly, he got up on his tiptoes and kissed Shiro. Not really a kiss, more a small brush on Shiro’s bottom lips. His mouth didn’t move after that until Shiro’s left hand grabbed his back to keep him close. Keith moaned as Shiro kissed him on the mouth, on the cheek where the scar is, on the neck. For the entire time, Keith kept Shiro’s right hand on his face.

“You know, it isn’t fair I’m the only one naked.”

Keith’s cheeks were red and his breath short. He still chuckled. “We can fix it fast.”

***

Florence welcomed Allura with all the honors: the parade, the children throwing petals at her, and of course the mandatory party with the most prominent people of the town. Shiro suspected Sanda had spreading voices about a possible marriage between him and Allura and that was the reason behind all the enthusiasm he saw.

Which was unfortunate, because the only thing he wanted at the moment was to speak with Allura in private, asking her how she felt and especially where Keith was and why he hadn’t come back to Florence with her.

He couldn’t do it at the party, so after the official greetings, he looked at her from distance. She seemed fine, but Shiro recognized her worries under her happy façade. He wasn’t reassured by it. His gaze moved on the group of artists and he noticed Romelle with them. He doubted she could tell him anything without Allura’s permission, but he tried.

“My lord,” Romelle greeted him as he approached the group. “This party is amazing! I’m so pleased! Coran never did that for us!”

“I thought Coran was the master of parties.”

“He is, but… his parties are extravagant to say at least.”

“Where is he, by the way?”

“He remained in Bologna. Someone has to take care of the city while Allura is far away. Especially after… what happened with Lord Lotor.”

Shiro would ask more, understanding how things had been. He only knew what everybody saying about Lotor’s murder, and it wasn’t much. With the artists there, he couldn’t, so he just nodded.

Pidge took the chance of speaking. “Romelle told us Keith’s working at the decoration of a campaign villa. Wasn’t he supposed to paint a portrait?”

Shiro raised an eyebrow: the portrait was the excuse they had used, and he didn’t know why it had been changed.

“Oh, no, no,” Romelle said. “There was probably a misunderstanding…. It is a portrait, but not a painting. Yes, not a painting, but a fresco in the campaign villa. Yep, that’s it.”

Pidge frowned. “If it’s that so… Keith might be away for a while…”

“The dome isn’t ready yet and Keith had worked at the sketches for the fresco already. You don’t have to worry,” Shiro reassured her. Or maybe himself, because there was something off about Romelle he didn’t like.

Pidge pouted, and Shiro wondered if she suspected something, since she had come to Pisa with them. Hunk pats her in the shoulder. “He’ll come back in time for the dome.”

“Well, if he doesn’t, I’m here, you know,” Lance added.

It resulted in a discussion between the three of them, so Shiro took his chance to leave. He noticed Allura speaking with Sanda and Ivenson. She smiled at him.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” she said. “I’m feeling better know.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Relax, for now. But I wish to talk with you about the relationship between our two cities as soon as possible.”

“Of course.”

Sanda intervened. “May I remember you it will be improper for a young not married woman to remain alone with a man?”

Shiro had to accept. “I wasn’t planning to leave my advisors out of this, don’t worry.” He threw a look at Allura, who understood and made a subtle nod with her head.

“Very well,” Sanda commented.

“Now, if you excuse me, I need to speak with my lady-in-waiting,” Allura said. She brushed Shiro as she walked, and she whispered, “meet me later at night at the porch.”

Shiro waited for it all evening. Once the party was over, everyone else was in their room and the servants had left him in bed, he stood up. He placed his mantel over him and climbed the stairs from his private quarter to the main quarter. He walked in the dark, with prudence, and when he was sure nobody was around, he opened the door and entered in the inside porch of the palace.

Allura was there, her dress still on, a candle next to her. She startled as he heard the steps; once he noticed Shiro, she relaxed and blow up the flame of the candle. Shiro sat next to her: the situation had to be serious.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I would never want to drag you in this.”

“I was in it from the very beginning,” he replied. Honerva was his enemy too, and even before Allura met Lotor. “But tell me, where’s Keith?” His worries were showing. He didn’t care.

“He’ fine,” she assured him. “He’s doing a job for me. It was the only one I can trust enough to do it. But before explaining it to you, we need to talk about Lotor’s death.”

Partially reassured, Shiro said, “I’m sorry about it. Are you sure it was Zarkon’s doing?”

“I’m sure he wanted to,” Allura replied. “There was an underground war between the two of them and it wouldn’t be the first time Zarkon tried to kill someone.” She looked at Shiro, before continuing, “so everyone believed it. But it wasn’t Zarkon’s doing.”

“You know for certain?”

“Yes. Because it was me.”

That was a shock. “What? How? I mean…”

She told all the story. “When Keith came to me, he didn’t explain the entire situation. He didn’t want to spit out what Honerva had said. We called Lotor first so he could defend himself.”

“And it turned out Honerva was telling the truth? About Lotor’s plan?”

Even in the dark of the porch, he could see her hands tightened her blue skirt. “Yes. He had agreements with some cities in the Papal States. Once he married me, they would revolt and declare their loyalty to Bologna. Zarkon would attack them, and I would have no choice but go in their aid. They would be my people.”

There were anger and sadness in her voice, despite her control. Shiro thought of the implication of it. Florence would join Bologna because Allura losing against Zarkon would mean having the Papal States right between his alliance with Milan and Venice. And if they managed to defeat Zarkon, they would control all the center and north Italy. But they could lose too.

“I’m not searching for war,” she continued. “I’m angry at Zarkon’s power, but we already took as much as we can from him, from territory to influence. He lost already. Going to war with him will bring only more despair. But Lotor wanted more.”

“So you killed him?”

“I didn’t want to. But I was so angry and I hit him… he tried to defend himself…”

She trembled as she remembered, so Shiro hug her. “It’s okay. Tell me about the rest.”

“Coran and Romelle are informed. They helped me with the funeral. Keith was there too. We blamed a killer for it, and everyone assumed it was sent by Zarkon. He already exiled Lotor once.”

“As much as I had like to say it’s over, I’m afraid Honerva wouldn’t let it pass,” Shiro said. “Maybe she was truly trying to protect her son.”

“Or maybe she was trying to get him killed,” Allura replied, no compassion in her voice. “But there’s another problem. Lotor isn’t dead.”

“Say what?”

“I hit him hard and he lost a lot of blood. He barely survived.”

“But you hold his funeral. You show his body.”

“His sleeping body,” Allura corrected him. “I proposed to build a mausoleum for him so I had the excuse to buried the body in the chapel of my palace. In truth, we never did that. Nobody suspected anything, seeing Lotor all covered in blood and completely still.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t want Lotor death. He may be misguided, but I’m not an assassin. Still, since Honerva and Zarkon’s plan with him, I decided believing his death would be the best course of action to keep him safe for now, until he recovers.”

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “Axca, Lotor’s most loyal servant, has a back-up plan. Well, Lotor has, a place to hide if something goes wrong. She won’t tell me, and it’s for the best. They’re heading there and Keith is going with them.”

“Why Keith?” Shiro guessed the ask turned out a little bit aggressive, but he couldn’t help it.

“He volunteered,” Allura explained. “As a painter, I can send him off town without people suspecting another reason. In Bologna, they know him, and they know about the redecoration I’m doing at my campaign villa. And if he travels with Axca, they can pass for a married couple and there will be fewer suspicions.”

Shiro became irrational jealous of the situation. Keith wasn’t really married with this Axca, but the idea he could lie about it, or that other people believed it was unnerving for him. He didn’t say that to Allura.

“And when Lotor will recover?”

“We aren’t sure he will recover entirely,” she said. “Time will pass. And for now, we have Honerva and Zarkon to keep an eye on. See if they have an agreement on Lotor’s destiny or if his death will spark another fracture between them.”

“I don’t like to just sit and wait, but it seems we don’t have any choice for now.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

Shiro shook his head to assure her she wasn’t her fault. At the moment, though, he was more worried about Keith. He hoped Lotor’s escape plan was a safe one and that nobody would ever suspect Keith being a part of it.

***

The dim light hit Shiro in the face, waking him up. The tent was supposed to avoid it; they didn’t close it enough the evening before. He released a small sight, as he settled better on the pillow. He trembled a little and realized he didn’t feel the sheets on his body anymore. He attempted to stand up pushing the left hand on the mattress.

“Don’t move.”

Shiro obeyed and sank the head more in the pillow. But curiosity got him, and turned his head a little: Keith sat on the mattress, back on the pillow and he used his bend legs as a table for his notebook. In the dim light, shadows moved on his naked body as he drawn, dancing with his long hair that falls on the shoulders.

He was beautiful. Shiro couldn’t say if it was because of his appearance or because his work as a painter, but surely, he would never get tired of watching him.

“I still have to pose?” he asked.

“I haven’t finished the painting yet,” Keith answered, his eyes on the notebook.

“That’s because you go around playing spy.”

Keith bent the head on Shiro’s side. “That was a while ago. And we shouldn’t talk about it.”

They hadn’t. When Keith had returned, both him and Shiro had acted as Keith had painted Allura’s villa for real. Shiro wasn’t curious about Lotor’s whereabouts – it could be useful to know, but nothing more. Surely he would like to know about Keith’s journey. About his feelings in the entire matter. But Keith was right, no one should know about it, not even Shiro. He was satisfied enough when he’d seen Keith returning to Florence.

“Can I move now?”

“No.”

“And now?”

“No.”

“And now?”

Keith chuckled. He closed the notebook with a sigh and placed it at the end of the bed with the charcoal. Shiro turned around, lying on his back. He extended his left hand, so Keith could place himself against his chest and Shiro could hug him, keeping his hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith’s eyes as he watching Shiro were big, affectionate; pretty different from the one he had as he painted. Shiro loved them both.

He kissed Keith on the cheek, on the mouth, on the scar. “What you have to do today?”

“Lance asked me a hand for a couple of his sketches and I have to finish the portrait Coleen Holt commissioned. Then, maybe, I can work at my painting,” Keith answered. He caressed Shiro’s right arm. “What about you?”

“Reunion with the council. Then working at the bank. Letters to answer to. Same old.” He pressed Keith nearest and placed a kiss on his head. “We can stay here a little more.”

“We skipped breakfast for three days already. The others may suspect something.” Keith’s face bowed to kiss Shiro’s neck.

“Do you want to leave?” Shiro slipped under Keith’s body, letting him sitting on his abdomen.

“No.”

Keith bent down to kiss him again when they heard a loud bang coming from the office’s door. They looked at each other, but none of them moved.

“Shiro? Are you awake? It’s Sam.”

Shiro could pretend he was sleeping, but Sam’s knocking would surely have to wake him up. “Yes!” he yelled.

“Good. I’m really sorry to disturb you, but you must come. A Cardinal from Rome just arrived here.”

“A cardinal from Rome?” Shiro repeated.

“Yes. He said he had very critical news for you.”

Shiro looked at Keith. Luckily, none of them were aroused enough. They didn’t talk. Keith moved from him and sat down at the edge of the bed, looking for his clothes. Shiro reached the den. “Send a servant to me so I can prepare,” he ordered through the closed door. “I will meet the Cardinal in my office.” Once Sam’s steps disappeared, Shiro opened the door.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Keith kissed him on the cheek and nodded at the notebook. “I have my sketches.”

He left the room before the servant arrived. Shiro washed, dressed with his best clothes and then asked for a breakfast served in his den. He wanted the Cardinal to wait, so he took all the time necessary. Whatever news the Cardinal had for him, Shiro had to make sure he was in charge of it.

Once he reached the office, the Cardinal was sitting down in front of the desk. Also, Sam, Iverson, and Sanda were there. They shot him three different look – a curious, a worried and an angry one. Shiro turned directly at the Cardinal.

“Your Eminence,” Shiro greeted him.

“Lord Shirogane.” The Cardinal stood up and made a slight bow. “I am Cardinal Thace.”

They both sat down, Shiro at his own chair behind his desk. “Sorry if I made you wait,” he lied.

“You’re the one that needs an apology from me, for coming so early and to bring bad news.” Thace shook his head slowly. “But since the matter is too extreme importance, I and my escort rode all night to arrive as soon as possible.”

“I hope your efforts will be rewarded. What is it?”

Thace indicated on the scroll in front of him, placed at the edge of the desk. Shiro recognized Zarkon’s seal. “This is the official announcement of your excommunication.”

Shiro took a hard breath. “So this is how Zarkon wants to play.” He heard Iverson’s embarrassed cough. “What it’s his excuse, I mean, his reason.”

“You can read it on the scroll.” Thace was unfazed by his lack of respect towards the Pope.

Before Shiro could grab the scroll, Thace stopped him placing two fingers on it. “I beg your patient, my lord. This situation could be resolved without any publicity.”

“How?” Shiro bit back the remark he wanted to say.

“His Holiness has no interest in punishing men. We all are here to save them from damnation.” Shiro wondered if Thace really believed in his words. His face was unreadable. “His decision on your regards hadn’t been taken lightly and His Holiness will be more than happy to forgive you.”

“I still don’t know what my sins are.”

Thace moved his head a little, to look at Shiro’s advisors. Shiro nodded at him to continue: he had no secret from them. Well, almost none.

“Sodomy,” Thace murmured. Shiro snorted: sodomy could be a sin, but nobody ever got an excommunication because of it. It was one of the many sins priests forgave under a payment, and the one they indulged themselves. It could be used against him, as Sendak had done, but not more than that.

Thace knew too, because he added, “as you see, nothing too hard to forgive, but something His Holiness can’t accept from the head of land.”

Shiro stayed silent. There was no point to negate it and his mind was more occupied to understand the reason of Zarkon’s move. Gossips about Shiro’s sexuality have been around forever, since his and Adam’s relationship. They were an excuse. Why Zarkon decided to use it now?

“I can destroy the scroll before His Holiness announces it and gain the absolution myself,” Thace continued. “From you, the Holy Father just asks to not indulge in the sin anymore and a gesture that shows your contrition.”

“Like what? A donation?”

Thace nodded. “The cathedral you’re building is amazing, and it would please Our Lord. But it’s not in Rome, you see. His Holiness will appreciate if you give up a piece of it for the glory of Rome.”

“A piece?”

“The painter you assigned to it. His Holiness requests his presence in Rome.”

“Absolutely not.”

Words came out from Shiro’s mouth before he could play diplomatic. Of course, his entire being refused any idea to let Keith go. Thace remained still, looking at him. Shiro had a couple of minutes to clear his mind and realized the real implication of the request. If Zarkon had looked for something to steal from his cathedral, he would have gone for Pidge’s project for the dome first. Keith was great, but unknown at most.

There was another meaning behind Zarkon’s request and that was the main reason Shiro couldn’t accept it.

“I hire artists for their talent, but they’re not my servants,” Shiro said. “I can’t use them as a way to amend my mistakes. And by the way, I have five painters assigned to the cathedral, so it would be unjust to any of them to just fire him or her.”

“His Holiness is interested in the painter with the scar on his cheek,” Thace précised. “He’s pretty famous in Rome. We recognize when a master uses his disciple’s talent to shine, you know.”

Shiro regretted not having to ask more about Keith’s period in Rome, so he could counter Thace’s lies. Even if, in this particular case, he could even believe it. “Still, it won’t be fair from me to have him pay for my own sins. And even if I fire him, I can’t force him to come with you.”

“Rome is a great city,” Thace said. “One where artists can shine. You won’t do him a disservice to advise him to accept His Holiness’s request.”

“My answer is still no.” Shiro stood up. “I’m sorry you made all this way for nothing. Please allow me to host you and your escort at least for today. If you don’t mind the hospitality of an excommunicated,” he added with a smirk.

“Of course no. I gladly accept your offer, and I hope you took your time to think about His Holiness’ one.”

Shiro gestured at Iverson to take care of the Cardinal, as he left the room. He strolled in the hallway, his mind brought him towards the castle of lions.

Sam and Sanda followed him, and the latter spoke as soon as they put enough distance from the office. “You had to accept that offer.”

“No.” But Shiro stopped.

“He’s a painter! You can find another one in a second, every good painter out there would love to work for your cathedral.”

But they’re not Keith. And they didn’t know where Lotor was hiding. That wasn’t something he could tell them though. Still, he was disappointed they didn’t get there was something fishy in Zarkon’s request but they really believed everything was about a painter.

“Other people have been excommunicated in the past and they did just fine.”

“Kings. You’re not king,” Sanda replied. “You’re a banker. What if people start taking their money back because of it? Maybe the doge of Venice wouldn’t care, but what about his people? Maybe they cared about an alliance with an excommunicated and they forced the Doge’s hand. You can’t lose everything over a painter. Not even,” Sanda’s voice lowered, “if you sleep with him.”

Shiro turned his head to glare at her. Sanda looked at him back in his eyes, not fazed at all.

“Shiro,” Sam intervened. “You know I’m on your side. But this time… Sanda’s right.”

“For real?” Shiro felt the betrayal in his own voice.

“You sent Keith to Duchess Allura when she asked for him. This… will be the same thing. The dome isn’t ready yet and it could be positive for Keith’s career working for the Pope. You will do him a disservice if you deny him this possibility,” Sam explained. “In a few years, he can come back. You’re not sending him to death.”

Actually, he was. They didn’t know Keith as much, didn’t know the fact he hated Rome or the fact he did everything to return back in Florence. Shiro wouldn’t do that.

“Keith won’t go anywhere and that’s final.”

“Where is he supposed to go?”

Pidge appeared at the top of the stairs, papers in her hands. She frowned.

“Nothing of your concern, Katie.”

“Well, if the painter for my dome is leaving, I think I should know,” she replied.

“You should teach your daughter how to behave,” Sanda said.

Shiro intervened before Pidge could reply, “Keith isn’t going anywhere.”

He resumed the path towards the artists’ quarter and this time neither Sam nor Sanda followed him. Pidge did, but she waited for them to reach the studio before exploding. She didn’t even notice Hunk sitting down at her desk. “What was that?”

“What what?” Hunk blinked.

“Nothing you have to worry about,” Shiro replied.

“Then you can say it to us.” She crossed her arms and she managed to look at Shiro as she was taller than him.

“This is about the Cardinal?”

“Eh? Which Cardinal?”

Shiro noticed Keith and Lance sitting at Lance’s desk. There was a frown on Keith’s face, while Lance looked worried, as he moved his head between Keith and Shiro.

“What did the Cardinal say?” Keith asked.

“We will find out in one way or another,” Pidge added.

Shiro sighed. He grabbed a chair and sat down. “Zarkon excommunicated me,” he said. “For retiring it, he wants… Keith in Rome, working for him.”

“He wants to steal our painter?” Pidge was outraged.

“Wait? Excommunicated? Why?” Hunk turned his head around, as walls could give him answers.

Shiro didn’t answer. His eyes were on Keith, observing his reactions. His face had been surprised, then his lips sealed and his eyes became firm. He stood up.

“You can’t go, Keith.”

“Do we have another choice?”

“It doesn’t matter, that’s not an option.” Then Shiro understood. “You will go even if I command you not to, won’t you?”

“No one’s commanding me,” Keith replied. Shiro got his answer.

“Okay, okay, okay, stop.” Lance stood up and started pacing the room. “Listen, I don’t like the idea either. I don’t give up on working at the dome only for Keith to retire.” No one corrected his statement. His arms were unable to stay still. “But why are we acting as Keith has been sentenced to death? He can go, doing some jobs, and comes back. Hey, you can work really bad so Zarkon will send you back as soon as possible!”

“Okay, the last part isn’t as good,” Hunk chirped in. “And I don’t like the idea either, but…”

Pidge had still her arms crossed, as she watched Keith and Shiro. They’re still looking in each other’s eyes, in a silent conversation to convince the other to support their own decision.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Lance asked.

“Why can’t Keith go to Rome?” Pidge clarified. “What are you hiding from us?”

Shiro sighed and nodded at Keith. “Because Zarkon doesn’t want a painter. He wants the person who knows where his son is,” he said.

“Lotor? But he isn’t, like, dead?” Hunk commented.

“It’s not,” Shiro observed the three artists’ faces and how they changed as Keith told them all the story, starting from Honerva request to his journey with Lotor. He only hid Allura’s role in the matter.

“So…” Lance exhaled. “Zarkon found out somehow you know… and now… now what?”

“Can’t we just tell him?” Hunk proposed.

Keith shook his head. “I made a promise to Allura. And if I tell Zarkon, he’ll kill Lotor for sure. I can’t allow it.” He turned his head. “Listen, Shiro. I have connections in Rome. I will manage somehow. I’ll be fine.”

Shiro reciprocated the gaze. He guessed with connections Keith meant his mother. Sure, she was Galra and she already had helped him in the past, but could she protect him from the Pope’s wrath? He still was an illegitimate son. Shiro wouldn’t give Keith his approval, he couldn’t. He also knew he wouldn’t be able to force Keith into his decision. He had to accept Keith’s one.

“No, no, no,” Hunk intervened. “You can’t go. Haven’t you heard about the inquisition? They know how to torture people!”

“Then we go with him,” Pidge stated.

“Sure! Wait, what?” Lance raise an eyebrow.

“Can I remember you the part about torture?” Hunk added.

“But listen, that’s the point,” Pidge said. “Keith goes in Rome alone and Zarkon can do everything. Rome’s a big city, people disappear. Matt lost himself once.” She chuckled at the memory. “But if we are together, we can watch each other’s back better. It’s not like Zarkon can torture Keith in front of us… can’t he?” she added, and suddenly she didn’t look as much sure as before.

“Probably not,” Keith agreed. “But this is my problem so-”

Lance interrupted him. “First of all, this isn’t only your problem, this is Shiro’s as well and we want to help him too. Second, we’re a team. We work together at the cathedral and we should do this together too.” Hunk, despite his worried face, nodded.

“Well, it’s decided then,” Pidge said. “We’ll go to Rome and conquer it!”

“Yeah, without any knowledge about the city.” James’ voice came from the door, and he and the others were there, at the door. “But I know Rome. I can help you with that.”

“It isn’t polite to spy other conversation,” Hunk protested.

“Well, try not to be so loudly next time,” Nadia smirked. “Plus, it isn’t polite to hide this from us. We’re working at the cathedral too.”

“And we want to help Shiro,” Ryan added. Ina remained silent but nodded.

“Having two people that can move in Rome can be useful, don’t you think?” James finished. None of the others had something to replied back.

As much as Shiro would appreciate them, he couldn’t help but felt he’s losing to Zarkon. Again. Like nothing had changed from the conjure. Still, he wouldn’t force any of them to do things they didn’t want. He owed them that much. So he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he was calmer.

“Pack your things,” he said. “I tell the Cardinal you’re going with him.”

They nodded and moved to leave the room. Only Keith indulged a second, before turning his back. Shiro reached him and grabbed his hand to stop him. He closed the door after.

“Tell me where Lotor is.”

“Shiro, it’s better for you not to know.”

“It was. Now everything we have can be useful against Zarkon. I need to know.”

How to bring you back home went unspoken, but Keith caught it nevertheless. He nodded and he moved closer to whisper in Shiro’s ear.

***

Sam, Iverson, and Sanda entered in Shiro’s office as he finished to close the three envelopes. He didn’t look at them. They waited, while he pressed his seal on the wax. Then, he lent the envelopes to them, one to each. They took them and looked, but none of them dared to speak.

“We will gather an army,” he announced. “I want my allies to be informed and to send me as many soldiers as they can.”

The three of them were incredulous. “An army? For what?” Iverson asked.

“This is not of your concern,” Shiro replies.

“Your allies won’t accept unless you tell them everything,” Sanda pointed out.

“I agree. The letter tells them everything they need to know, that’s why I’m sending you,” Shiro said. “Sam, you’ll go to Venice. Iverson, to Milan, and Sanda to Bologna.”

Sam gripped the letter in his hand. “I trust you, but this… What’s happening? We have to know.”

“You’ll know when the time comes. Now go. I want you to leave today.”

Shiro lowered his head and started to write another letter. As they understood he wouldn’t speak further, they left. Once he was alone again, Shiro sighed. He was grateful to them for all they’ve done for him in the past years and definitely wouldn’t have able to without their advice. He hated the fact he had to deceive them, but he got no choice.

There was a spy in Florence. Worse, in his own palace. There was no other explanation at the fact Zarkon had found out about Keith and Lotor. They were cautious in everything, so only someone close to them could have discovered it. And, with his actions, they put Keith and everyone else in danger.

He had yet to find who the spy was, so, until that, he had to take every precaution he could to avoid any more information to slip outside. He had a plan to bring everyone back to Florence. He took time, time Shiro hoped to have, and he would work as long as the spy didn’t found it.

He left the letter half-written and he reached the castle of lions. Veronica was waiting there, hiding in her brother’s studio. For everyone, she had left Florence for the campaign, where her family of farmers lived. Instead, she just returned from a long journey. She had warned their allies from Milan, Venice, and Bologna to not pay attention to the letters they would receive from Florence. They were faking it to find out the spy.

“I have another job for you,” Shiro said.

“Everything to bring Lance back.”

Shiro didn’t like letting a woman alone in such a difficult journey, and the one she would make was even more dangerous than the one she had already made.

“I can only trust you right now.” He took a letter he had hid in the studio and gave to her.

“Who is the recipient?”

“King Voltron.”

She gasped. “In France?”

“He lives in Burgundy mostly, but I can’t assure you won’t have to reach Paris too.” Shiro nodded.

Veronica took a long breath. “I hope he speaks Latin.”

“The letter is written in French, and a lot of Italians work for his court.”

“That’s reassuring,” she mocked.

“I’m really sorry about it,” he said.

She shook her head. “When will I leave?”

“As soon as Sam and the others are far away. I would say, in a couple of days.”

“What will I do after delivering the letter?”

“Voltron will tell you.”

Shiro couldn’t be hundred percent sure Voltron would accept, but he was pretty positive he had the right argument to convince him. He would never want to ask for help outside Italy, but the fault was on Zarkon and his actions.

“Be careful, Veronica. Join as soon as possible a caravan of the merchant. Try not to be alone.”

“Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

Once she left the room, Shiro watched the studio. It looked so empty without Lance’s marbles, and Pidge and Hunk’s papers scrambled everywhere. Only one thing remained: Keith’s canvas, covered by the red sheet. It was barely visible now that outside it was dark. The temptation to remove the sheet and look at Keith’s painting was great, but Shiro refrained himself. He knew it wasn’t completed.

They would watch it together.

With a last look, Shiro left the room. He had his own journey to organize.

***

From the wall of the Castle of the Holy Angel, Shiro watched the city of Rome unraveled in front of him. It didn’t change from how Shiro remembered it: there could be new buildings, new streets, but it was still rotten inside. His eyes followed a wagon crossing the bridge and then turned around the castle to move to Saint Peter’s Basilica. It wasn’t entirely built yet.

“Lord Shirogane.” Cardinal Prorok approached him and Sanda. “His Holiness will see you now.”

“He surely took his time,” Shiro commented.

Sanda huffed for his lack of respect. Shiro touched her arm, an informal gesture to assure her he would keep his temper under control. He was relieved Zarkon decided to not let them wait any longer. Shiro didn’t plan to stay in Rome more than a day and they lost the entire morning already.

They followed Prorok to the second floor of the castle’s central tower. Despite looking like a fortress from outside, the inner parts of the castle were heavy decorated both as architectures and furnishings. The hall Shiro was guided to was no exception: Shiro’s eyes move immediately to the opposite wall, where Keith’s hand on the painting was recognizable. Unwilling, Shiro gritted his teeth.

There were other Cardinals in the hall; Shiro exchanged a look with Thace, whose face was as usual unreadable. But this time Shiro believed to find a hint of surprise in his eyes. Maybe he didn’t expect from Shiro to come directly in the lion’s den. Suspiciously absent was Cardinal Ranveig: Shiro had seen him leaving in the morning. Apparently, he wasn’t back yet.

Prorok opened a small door in the middle of the hall. The Cardinals moved to stand at both parts of the throne. Shiro knelt down with only one leg while Zarkon made his entrance, his long black tunic shifting around him. He sat down on the throne and, for a minute, they all remained silent and immobile.

“I was told you have important information for me,” Zarkon said. “Consider yourself blessed I grant you my time. I hope it’s worthy.”

Shiro stood up. A smirk appeared on his face. “His Holiness, thank you for your kindness,” he declared. “I am a sinner and it’s only thanks to you that I redeem myself from my guilt. Because of it, I dedicated the last months to show you my gratitude.”

At his side, Sanda stiffened. Shiro had been lying to her, so she surely didn’t expect any of Shiro’s moves. His mind floated to Sam and Iverson and the rest of his escort, who had remained outside the Latin Gate because Zarkon hadn’t let them in. He would explain everything to them later. He took a letter from his pocket.

“This is for you.”

Zarkon’s eyes narrowed. His head tilted on the side and Prorok hurried to reach Shiro, took the letter and brought it to Zarkon. Shiro was sure Zarkon recognized the seal, but he still opened it. Unfortunately, the letter covered Zarkon’s face entirely as he read it.

Zarkon stood up, the letter crumbled in one of his hand. He walked towards Shiro. “Come with me,” he ordered, and without waiting for an answer he moved to the same door he had entered. Shiro followed him. Both Prorok and Sanda tried to reach them, but Zarkon shook his head. Shiro closed the door behind him.

Zarkon didn’t face him until they arrived in his private den. Only then, he turned to Shiro and he was without any doubt angry.

“What does it mean?” he demanded.

“The letter is pretty clear.”

“I tried… for years… to resume my alliance with Voltron,” Zarkon spat. “And instead he goes and makes one with you?”

“I have a better offer.”

“What?”

“The city of Genoa.”

Zarkon wasn’t impressed. “And?”

“And your son Lotor.”

“So _he_ was still alive.” There was no relieved in Zarkon’s face, only the glimpse of being right.

“Yes, and at the moment outside you or Honerva’s grasp. Voltron didn’t appreciate your plan to tie up your family to Spain.”

“That was her idea!” Zarkon threw the letter in the fireplaces. The paper crumbles and turned to ashes.

“I know. Voltron doesn’t.”

“Will you tell him?”

“Maybe.”

Shiro knew he won. Zarkon needed France for his land to survive. Honerva didn’t want the Papal States to survive, that was the reason she tried to cut Voltron’s relationship with Zarkon by Lotor’s marriage.

“What do you want?”

“You away from Florence,” Shiro stated. “And my artists back.”

Zarkon gestured with his head at the window, from where Saint Peter’s Basilica was visible. “They’re at the church.” Without any other words, he used a private door to leave the office.

Shiro gave a last look at the room, appreciated there was no trace of Keith’s art in there, and then returned back to the hall. The Cardinals looked at him with concern. While Prorok hurried to reach the door and disappeared inside, looking for Zarkon, Thace turned his back at him and left the hall.

“My lord.” Sanda moved next to him.

There was an unspoken request in her eyes, but Shiro said instead, “You won’t come back to Florence with me.”

“But…”

“I know you’re the one informing Zarkon about my movements.” He was disappointed and displeased.

She didn’t defend herself. “I did what I thought was the better thing to Florence.”

“I believe you.” That was the worst part of it.

Shiro didn’t turn to look at her one last time.

He took back his black horse in the courtyard and headed to the Basilica. Even if the path was short, he preferred riding. He recognized the small figure of Pidge, sitting on the church’s step, as she talked with two workers, a large paper in front of her. She also saw him and she stopped her doing to reach him. Shiro jumped off the horse to hug her.

“I’m so glad to see you, Shiro,” she said.

“Oh, hey, I see tears,” he joked.

She punched him, but she didn’t hide the smile. “We can go back?”

Shiro nodded. “Where are the others?”

“Oh, they’re painting the church. And…”

He didn’t wait for her to finish and he strutted inside. His arrival was noticed and before he reached the center of the nave, the artists had appeared one of another.

“Oh, man…” Hunk swallowed. “It is safe for you here, isn’t it?”

“Don’t worry.” He was still looking around, noticing a suspicious absence. “Where is Keith? And Lance?”

“They’re taking care of a different church,” Nadia answered.

Shiro frowned. “What about the plan to stick around so none of you will get in danger?”

“That’s the reason Keith and Lance went together,” Pidge explained, arm crossed.

“I see.” That couldn’t stop the slightly fear he had. Zarkon would keep his relationship with Voltron, but Shiro wasn’t sure he wouldn’t toss the last act out of revenge. “Pack everything and reach the Latin Gate, Sam and the others will wait for you there. James, can you lead me to this other church?”

“Sure. I know a short cut.”

Shiro managed to have James on his horse too, so they could move fast. They crossed the bridge in front of the castle and took a secondary route. From the direction, Shiro understood they walked alongside the street of the Roman Forums, but they continued on. The passed the Capena Gate and took the Appia Road.

“It’s an isolated area,” Shiro said. His fear grew.

“This is actually a commercial road,” James explained. “But it’s the area of the ancient cemetery, and recently there had been some accident, so Zarkon had closed the street from the time being. There are some villas around though.”

“Why Zarkon sent Keith here then?”

James shrugged. “The official excuse is that here there is a spot where Saint Peter stayed for a while. Now there is a small church, but it’s very important for peregrines.” Shiro appreciated the fact not even James could be fooled by Zarkon’s move. “It’s the one.”

Shiro looked at the small bell tower that rose up a quadrilateral of walls. There was no main gate, only a small opening in the wall. Shiro jumped off the horse and let it free in the small yard in front of the church. The wooden door was opened so he entered. The dim light coming from the window made the church dark. It didn’t prevent him to recognize Keith’s touch in the half-making fresco in the ceiling’s apse.

“Keith? Lance?” he called.

He didn’t receive an answer, only his voice echoing around the church. He checked the door on the right side, the one that brought to the sacristy, but it was an empty room.

“They’re not here?” James reached him.

“Nobody’s here. Are you sure this is the church?”

“Positive. I can’t tell if someone else come and asks them to move to another project without us know it, but this morning they were supposed to work here.”

Shiro gritted his teeth. The absence of Cardinal Ranveig became more and more suspicious, especially because he had left the castle right after Shiro’s arrival. It was entirely possible Zarkon had send him to Keith to have leverage. But that was before Zarkon had found out about Shiro’s alliance with Voltron. He could be either Zarkon would leave Keith alone or would use him for petty revenge.

He climbed the wooden platform that let the painters reach the ceiling. Brushes and colors were there like the painters just made a quick pause from their work. As he touched one of the brush, he realized he was dry. It was left there for hours. Shiro looked with sadness at the drafted head of Jesus and imagined Keith, sitting on that platform, as his hand moved on the wall.

He jumped back to James.

“Listen,” he said. “Join the other to the Latin Gate. I’ll go back to the Castle of Holy Angel. Zarkon is behind this, I’m sure. If I don’t return before sunset, you all start moving.”

James frowned. “Fine,” he said at last. “But before going straight to Zarkon, take a jump to Marmora Manor.”

“Marmora Manor?”

“Do you remember all the stories about Keith’s mother? Well, they’re true.” Shiro knew that already, Keith told him about Lady Krolia and how she had thought to protect him from bringing him in Rome. “Marmora is a cadet branch of the Galra family, and they don’t get along well. Keith’s mother is one of them. They gave us a hand in our time here.”

Ah, the connections Keith talked about. Shiro wasn’t sure how his relationship with his mother was after he had left for Bologna and he was relieved to know Keith had allies too. “Good. Explain to me how to reach this mansion.”

“Do you know where the pantheon is? You cross the garden at its right and you will find the mansion.”

“Got it.”

James insisted to go by foot because the Latin Gate was nearer than the castle or Marmora Manor. Shiro watched him ignoring the main road and take a secondary path between two broken columns and disappearing in the grass. He hoped he would be fine.

He was about to ride his horse when he heard a strange sound coming from the church. Did they miss something? Careful, he entered inside.

There was now a cloaked person standing in front of the altar. Slowly, figures appeared from both sides. Shiro took a step behind, only to notice others standing between him and the door. He had no idea where they come from. There weren’t other doors but the sacristy’s, he had checked before. They all wore black cloaks that covered them entirely, so Shiro couldn’t see their face.

But the figure in front of the altar turned at him and lowered the hood.

“Honerva.”

“We’re skipping the formality, I see.”

Her white hair was messy around her face and it fell on her chest. With the black clothes, she really looked like a witch. For what Shiro knew, she wasn’t allowed in Rome anymore. He didn’t doubt she had her way to stay in the city nevertheless.

“Where is Keith?” he demanded.

“Oh. The painter.” She tilted her head in understanding. “He’s safe, for now. I have questions for him, but maybe you can answer too.”

“I want to see him,” Shiro said. He realized he was more afraid of Honerva’s actions than Zarkon. He could control Zarkon, using his obsession with France and Voltron. He had no way to control Honerva, nor to prevent her actions. And if she had Keith…

“Not now,” she replied. “Where is my son?”

Shiro’s mind struggled. He had no reason to tell her, but even if she knew, she couldn’t do anything. Lotor was safe until he’s under Voltron’s protection.

“I want to see Keith before telling you,” he said.

Honerva’s eyes brightened. “Tell me and I let him go.” The cloaked figures got near and this time Shiro noticed they had swords under the mantel.

“No.” Shiro shook his head. “If you don’t want to risk Keith, at least let Katie go.”

There was a slight movement from Honerva’s lips. For once, her façade seemed to tremble. “No,” she said.

“I see.”

She had no idea about Lance being with Keith in the church, Shiro understood, otherwise she should realize Shiro naming a girl instead of a boy. Honerva had no idea where Keith was too. Maybe she was in the church looking for him, but neither of them found him. Shiro relaxed. She didn’t play him this time. His situation still didn’t look good: even if he refused to tell her about Lotor, he had no guarantee she would let him live at this point. And if he did, she wouldn’t let him go.

“I want a sword,” he said.

“You want a lot of things.”

“You’ll kill me once I tell you, so at least I want the chance to die defending myself.”

She smirked. She moved her mantel and took off a sword, that let fall a couple of meter from Shiro. He took a step forward, but the figures around him moved slightly.

“The answer first.”

He nodded. “He’s in France.”

“Sure.” Honerva laughed. “Lotor would never go there.”

“Yes. That was Voltron’s idea. I just informed him where to find Lotor.” He smiled. “As I told Zarkon, Voltron didn’t appreciate the idea of you all bounded with Spain.”

He witnessed the exact moment of Honerva losing her composure. She believed him because Lotor in France was the reason she hadn’t been able to find him. And Lotor in France meant she wouldn’t be able to take him back.

“No…” She gripped her black mantel and she crunched on her teeth. It lasted a second, then she regained her calm. “At least I can conclude what I started years ago.”

I was the signal. Shiro jumped forward and grabbed the sword in the ground a second before the figures were on him. He rushed for Honerva herself, blocking a blade in his direction. She avoided him with grace and speed and he had to shield himself for another slash. He jumped on the side to dodge a blow and found himself with his back against the altar.

He was in a church. People tried to kill him. He panicked.

_Not again not again not again not again_

The figure was on him, sword ready to hit when he stopped, arm in mid-air. He fell.

“Keith…!”

Keith reserved him a brief look, before turning around and fought another of the other figure. Shiro strengthened the grip on his sword with his left hand and moved, trusting the blade in the neck of a man that was coming for Keith. He went back to back with him: they didn’t speak as they kept fighting.

Shiro noticed other people in the church, attacking Honerva’s men. He didn’t recognize any of them, but if they were with Keith, maybe they could be Marmora’s. He turned around to see Honerva running towards the sacristy. He disarmed one of the men and kicked him out of the way. He rushed to pursue her and Keith followed.

The sacristy is empty. “There,” Keith nodded. “There are catacombs here, with secret passages outside.”

Shiro saw the hole in the ground. They looked at each other before jumping in there. The catacomb was small and smelly, but there were enough candles around to see the cave, even if the project creepy shadows on the walls. There were turs and passages around the tombs and no matter how Shiro looked, there was no way to get which one Honerva had taken.

Keith made a step forward, but Shiro stopped him placing the blade on his chest. “She could be anywhere,” he said. “Or this could be another of her trap.”

“But this is our occasion… After all she had done to you…”

He shook his head. “I had like to, but we have important matter now.”

“Fine,” he nodded. He wasn’t satisfied, but he accepted.

Shiro looked at him at the glim light of the candles. He wasn’t wounded. His hair had grown more. He still wore his painter’s clothes and his hands are dirty with colors. Shiro let the sword fell and hug him. He was relieved to hear another clinging sound before Keith reciprocated the hug, placing his head against Shiro’s chest.

“What happened?” he asked, in a whisper.

“Cardinal Ranveig came in the church this morning, asking us to go with him” Keith said. “It was suspicious, so Lance and I run away and we holed up at my mother’s house. Then Thace came to inform us you were here.”

“Thace? Cardinal Thace?”

“Yes. It’s on our side. I guessed you would come here for me… We didn’t expect Honerva, but I’m glad Kolivan convinced me not to come alone.”

“And Lance?”

“Thace escorted him to the Latin Gate.”

“Good.”

“Keith!” A voice called from below.

They moved aside: they haven’t separated from the hug during their conversation. They cast each other a brief sweet smile before climbing back in the sacristy.

“Honerva escaped,” Keith said.

“I sent men on the other side of the church. They’ll see where she resurfaced, and they’ll catch her.” He turned his head to Shiro. “Lord Shirogane. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Kolivan, the head of Marmora family.”

“She’s… my mother’s husband,” Keith explained. “He helped us a lot here.”

“It’s an honor to meet you,” Shiro said. “I thank you for the help you give me and Keith and I hope I can reciprocate it in Florence. Not a fight in a church, though.”

Kolivan nodded solemnly. “I sure hope so. My family didn’t appreciate Zarkon’s government and we’re doing our best to put our own candidate on the Pope’s seat.” Thace, Shiro guessed. “That could bring alliance between Rome and the rest of North Italy.”

“That will be great,” Shiro said sincerely.

“But now you two should leave. You can take one of my horses,” he added to Keith.

“Thank you,” Keith said. “Say goodbye to my mother, will you?”

“Sure.”

They moved to the church, where the bodies’ of Honerva’s men laid on the floor. Shiro didn’t look at him and Keith speeded up his steps. In the yard, there was some Marmora’s man. Shiro took his black horse, as he saw Keith speaking with one of the men before jumping on the horse the man was offering him.

Keith reached Shiro. And smiled.

“Let’s go home.”

***

They were all in front of the canvas, waiting. Keith had his arms crossed, a frown on his face.

“I don’t even know why you’re here.”

“Come on, we’re in this together,” Lance said.

Keith was about to reply, but Hunk prevented him. “You still need our approval before putting your hand on our dome. So let’s see what you can do.”

Keith rolled his eyes and looked at Shiro, who shrugged. He was too much curious to see the painting to spend time convincing the others to leave. In the end, Keith gave up and took off the red sheet from the canvas. He smirked to the loud gasp that followed.

The painting portrayed Shiro lied down on his stomach, in the wood, next to the shore of a lake. His head leaned to the surface of the lake, that reflexes the image of his face, scar included. The left hand helped him staying balanced, while the right one felt with grace in the water. The Shiro in the portrait wore a thin white tunic that didn’t hide anything of his body like he was actually naked.

“That’s… wow…” For once, even Lance didn’t know how to say.

“Narcissus,” Shiro commented. “Do you see me as self-centered and vain?”

“No, I see you like the most handsome man ever.”

“Ugh,” Pidge snorted, as the two of them looked at each other with a soft gaze.

“Should we leave now?” Hunk proposed.

“Sorry, guys,” Shiro laughed, returning his eyes on the painting. “It’s a pity this is not mine, because I have the perfect place for it.”

“Your bedroom?” Lance asked.

“The council’s main room?” Hunk rose.

“I hope not the cathedral,” Pidge said.

“No,” Shiro smirked. “I was thinking more… Packing it up and sending it as a present to Pope Zarkon.”

Four looks were on him, a mixture of awe, amusement, and shock. “Savage,” Lance commented.

Keith’s index finger rubbed the border of the canvas. “I can paint another one,” he said, before turning his gaze to the other and smiled. “Let’s do it.”

 

Echo and Narcissus, by Keith – 1456 ca

Louvre Museum

_[…] The inspiration from Narcissus comes from Takashi Shirogane from Florence, the artist’s patron, as it can be testified from other portraits._

_Echo is depicted sitting down, back at the watchers, with her long hair covering her shoulders. Her face his turned a little, watching Narcissus from his right side. […] Some critics support the theory Echo is actually a self-portrait of the artist himself, as some historical sources considered his relationship with Shirogane a romantic one. It is true Echo was drawn in a way that doesn’t show her gender._

_[…]_

_In his “Lives”, Vasari explains this painting is a second copy Keith made as the first one, that only showed Narcissus, got destroyed. Vasari says: “Pope Zarkon wanted Keith as a painter for Saint Peter and he never forgave Shirogane for stealing him. He accused Shirogane of every sin. As an answer, Keith portrayed Shirogane in the most scandalous way, and Shirogane sent the painting to the Pope. Zarkon destroyed it with his bare hands […]”_


End file.
